


Best Laid Plans (and Men)

by hablikseesthestars



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Roommates, Simon is a tease, Simon is clueless, Slow Burn, but you guessed it, he's great at it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:13:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24935854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hablikseesthestars/pseuds/hablikseesthestars
Summary: Look. Simon had his reasons. Had he anticipated that events would unfold as they did? No, of course not, Simon rarely anticipated toast at breakfast and that was almost a daily assurance. As Penny would say, he wasn’t so much a thinker as he was a doer and then deal-er with the consequences. It was just that, in this case, he hadn’t thought there would be quite so many consequences. And that they would come quite so soon.TL;DR - I needed more suffering and sexual tension, so I wrote an AU where Simon figures out that Baz is attracted to him and tries to use that knowledge as a weapon. A sexy, sexy weapon.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 125
Kudos: 268





	1. First Dibs

_Watford - Year Eight_

Baz lay on top of the blankets on the bed, savouring the peace and quiet that would no doubt soon be shattered by the bane of his existence, Simon Snow. A name fit for a sneer, with those alliterative S’s dancing ridiculously one after the other. _Simon Snow_. A ridiculous name for a ridiculous boy.

He had arrived at Watford early this year. Usually, Snow was the first to arrive. Baz knew how much he loved the school, how he couldn’t stand to be away from it, how sad it made him to be sent off to some far-flung hovel of a children’s home in the middle of god-knows where. So of course Snow would usually be the first to arrive. He had the most to miss.

Except that this year Baz really missed Simon Snow.

He turned his head slowly to where his bed was positioned nearby Snow's. Snow's bed had looked too neat, too untouched by that whirlwind of a boy in a space he called home. Baz hated himself for how he had gone to Snow's bed on arriving, putting a hand to the blankets hesitantly before laying on top of it, searching for a hint of Snow’s scent.

It wasn’t there, of course. It had been months, and everything in the room was freshly laundered and cleaned. Pathetic! If Snow had known what he had done, had _seen_ him, he would’ve laughed in his face. But that was just it, it was becoming harder and harder to conceal his all-consuming desire, his _obsession_ with Simon Snow.

And _why?!_ He asked himself for the millionth time in seven years. _Why_ was he trapped with this horrible thunderstorm of emotions?! _Why_ oh _why_ couldn’t he just let go? It had been _years!_ Baz closed his eyes and ran through his usual pre-school Snow-themed checklist to try and calm himself.

**No. 1 - Snow probably wasn’t as attractive as he remembered him.**  
After all, Snow was practically a _ginger_. And a short ginger, at that. With too-blue eyes and moles everywhere, hideous growths sprouting up hither and thither. _Hither and thither_. Ridiculous. Snow was making his brain melt, he was sure his attraction to Snow was leeching out his brain cells one by one. At least he’d need to lose a good 3/4 of them to be as stupid as that boy. And that was the second thing.

**No. 2 - Snow was an idiot.**  
No manners, no control, no focus, no _sense!_ He couldn’t love an idiot, he was one of the foremost minds of his generation. What would happen if they had to attend an event together? Snow would probably try and eat decorative plating elements at dinner. He’d probably ignore the dress code and wear his stupid school uniform, he was so _obsessed_ with that uniform. His shoulders would probably look really broad in it and his cheeks would look really ruddy and-

Fuck. Baz threw an arm over his face. Why. Why him. And why was Snow a him? Because - 

**No. 3 - Snow was a boy.**  
And Baz was not meant to fall in love with a boy. He _especially_ wasn’t meant to fall in love with Simon Snow, but setting that aside Simon Snow was also a _boy_. Which made Baz gay. A great, gangly, gay vampire. Sometimes, as a thought experiment, Baz wondered whether his father would be more upset if he found out for sure that his son was gay or if he found out that his son was in love with _Simon Snow_ , the Great Weapon of the Mage. The Chosen One.

Baz sneered. Who would willingly choose Snow? The boy was a menace. It would be like choosing an atom bomb, or a glitter canon, or something equally explosive but much less gay since after all -

**No. 4 - Snow wasn’t gay.**  
Like not even a little bit. Baz had tested the waters a couple of times, trying to judge Simon’s reactions to various stimuli. A magazine left lying around with a shirtless man on the cover. A scented candle in the bathroom. Questioning his fashion sense. Buying too many plants and then not caring for them properly. 

That year Snow had been convinced that one of the sixteen plants Baz had purchased was slowly strangling him in his sleep, which had been a hilarious side effect of the _Mimicus Motus_ acting out his sleeping desires to touch Snow. Although it was problematic when it resulted in one of their most horrid rows to date. Snow had gone off one night and burned every one of the plants into ash, leaving nothing more than their empty charred pots. Baz had grown quite fond of the plants, especially how he would sometimes awake from a delicious dream in the middle of the night to the _Mimicus Motus_ slowly dragging Snow’s shirt up his chest, revealing inch after precious inch of bare skin.

A disappointing loss, but still more disappointing were the weeks it took for Snow to even start stuttering nonsense at him again due to his blind fury. Baz sighed. He had reached number five on the list. The worst of all.

**No. 5 - Snow didn’t even like him.**  
Most of the time it was only the Roommates Anathema that kept them from coming to blows. Baz was certain that if the Anathema ever faltered, he’d be sporting more bruises than Snow had freckles, and Snow had quite a few of those given the times he’d seen Snow shirtless just out of the shower and oh-

Baz rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in Snow’s pillow. He hadn’t bothered to move to his own bed. Clearly Snow wasn’t going to be here today if he wasn’t here already, maybe he’d been waylaid by some mythical beast sent to make his hair look windswept and get just the right amount of blood on his sweater. Baz groaned and forcefully reminded himself of number six on the list.

**No. 6 - They were supposed to kill each other.**  
A minor detail, really, because Snow was already _killing him_ just by _existing_. Baz’s entire life was agony, a quick death at the hand of Snow seemed like a mercy if anything. At least it would put him out of this misery. At least then he could-

“What are you doing on my bed?”

Baz sat up quickly, his limbs barely managing to arrange themselves in something resembling a casual seated pose before Snow dropped his luggage on the ground in their room. Fuck. “I could ask you the same question, Snow.”

Damn that man to hell. Damn his adorable confused frown, and his shoddy straight-boy outfit, and his fucking curls. This was all _his_ fault!

“I’m not on my bed? Or your bed? I’m - I just got here and - did you do something to my bed?”

“Only one way to find out.” Baz immediately stood to make his escape, purposefully bumping Snow’s shoulder as he sauntered out the door. He’d have to face Snow eventually, but for now he’d bought himself roughly four hours while Snow drove himself mad trying to figure out how Baz had ‘enchanted’ his bed. He’d probably drag that frizz ball Bunce into it as well, hopefully requiring one of their patented library trips so that Baz could have some peace later this evening. A great start to what was sure to be his finest year yet.


	2. Bedspionage

### SIMON

“He’s done something to my bed!”

Penny looked up from her book on Numerology and the Death of Aphorisms to see a frantic and disheveled Simon standing in front of her, speaking a little too loudly for a library. Typical. 

“Hello to you as well. And yes, my parents did let me come back to school after that disaster in the Chapel last year, thank you for asking. Also if you’re talking about Baz, I will remind you that your Baz daily quota decreases with each new conspiracy theory.”

“It’s not a conspiracy theory!” Simon blustered. “And yes, hello, I have missed you, but this is important! I showed up in our room-”

“Is that blood on your jumper?”

Simon glanced down at his now-stained white crew neck jumper. Disappointing, that was one of his few decent pieces of clothing left without rips or stains. “Yes, some loose banshees in the forest, anyway I went into our room and-“

Penny slammed her book down on the table. “You were attacked by banshees?!”

“Yes, and Baz was - ”

“Are you injured?!”

“Ahh…” 

Simon frowned and lifted up his jumper to check. He hadn’t been expecting to be attacked on his way to school, although at this point perhaps he should have been. It was happening with startling regularity. This time, he’d almost made it all the way to the gates of the school when suddenly a flock of banshees mobbed him and dragged him into the forest. Unpleasant, but not unmanageable.

The fight had been quick, but his hip hurt from when he’d dodged the biggest of the banshees only to land on a bundle of sticks that must have been some kind of treasured monument judging by their horrid screeches as he crushed it beneath his weight. He had made short work of them after that, and had stumbled in a daze straight to his room, where he was shocked to find Baz lying face-down on his bed. He’d sort of forgotten about the injuries at that point, probably because Baz was the real threat here. If only Penny would _listen!_

But oh! There was some blood and bruising on his hip after all. “Huh! I suppose I am injured.”

Penny rolled her eyes and pulled Simon towards her by the arm. “Crowley’s sake, Simon! Here, stand still!”

Simon pushed her away. “Geroffit, Penny! It’s fine! I’m trying to tell you-“

“Hold still!” Penny pulled him back, trying to tug his jumper back up.

“Well doesn’t this look cosy.”

If it wasn’t the devil himself. “Baz!”

“Basilton.” Penny sighed and nodded.

“Bunce.” Baz nodded in return but didn’t take his eyes off Simon. Simon promised himself he wouldn’t blush, but then immediately broke that promise when Baz slowly looked down to where Penny had shoved up his jumper and then back up to his eyes before raising an eyebrow. Judgey git.

“You know, I never figured you for an exhibitionist, Snow. That sort of thing is usually best kept to the bedroom, not the library. Or perhaps you’re concerned that Agatha might catch you and your little something on the side?”

Simon gritted his teeth in anger. “Sod off, Baz!”

“Clever. Can you write that one down for me so that I can use it next time I find myself in a tête-à-tête with the Chosen One?”

Penny had been ignoring them both and instead mumbling a **Get well soon** to patch Simon up. She lowered his jumper back down and Baz’s eyes snapped to hers. “Baz, why don’t you save us all some time and tell us what you did to Simon’s bed.”

Baz shrugged. “Nothing.”

Simon spluttered. “It wasn’t-! You were clearly up to something! Why else would you be lying down face first on _my bed?!_ ”

“Had to see if your current state was due to genetics or if your intelligence was being absorbed by that overstuffed monstrosity. Turns out you’re just an imbecile.”

“Baz!” Penny looked more than a little fed up, and a faint smell of campfire was starting to rise from Simon. Simon could tell he was making Penny nervous, so he tried his best to focus on dulling the shimmer and the spark that was fighting to get out of him.

Baz sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Honestly, I’d had a bit too much the night before. Didn’t even notice it was the wrong bed until you showed up in a tizzy.”

Unbelievable! “Then WHY didn’t you just-?!”

“And miss out on one of your classic paranoid strops? I think not, Snow!”

Simon took a few steps towards Baz before Penny caught his arm and tugged him back. “You son of a-!”

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Language, Snow! Don’t want your precious Mage to overhear.”

Simon snarled while Penny shot a warning _Simon_ at him. Baz just snorted and shoved his hands in the pockets of his too-perfect pants. Did he get his clothes _tailored?_ Probably.

“As amusing as it is to see you go feral, Snow, I’m afraid I must be off. Some of us actually devote our time to our studies in the library, rather than disturbing everyone with our sexual proclivities.”

Another unwelcome blush flooded Simon’s face. “I wasn’t-! We’re not-”

“As you were, Snow.”

What an infuriating git! Simon felt like he could scream. His magic was desperately welling up inside him, bubbling at the surface as he watched Baz walk away. The smell of smoke was beginning to rise, and Penny was frantically pulling at his sleeve.

“Simon! Simon! Breathe! Calm down! Just- here, sit down!”

Simon sat, if only to save what was left of his jumper from Penny’s pulling. “I _hate_ him!”

“I know.”

“It’s not _fair!_ He just says things and I- I can’t-”

“I know, Simon. It’s alright.”

But it _wasn’t_ alright! Simon did his best to quell his stormy thoughts as Penny looked on nervously and patted his arm, occasionally whispering encouragement to keep breathing. So typical of Baz to be wholly unruffled by this entire experience. Always looking so perfect, so poised. Simon wished he could mess him up a bit. Bring him down a peg. Or maybe six or seven pegs. In any case, something had to give, and it wasn’t going to be Simon. 

It _wasn’t!_

### BAZ

Gods below, could he not have a moment’s peace?! Was he to be tormented even while trying to study?! He had _smelt_ Snow before he had seen him in the library, he was surprised he hadn’t noticed the injuries when he had shown up in their room earlier. Although he had been a bit preoccupied by Snow’s sudden entrance.

That luscious, smoky smell filled his nostrils and he almost felt his fangs drop as he quickly turned the corner only to see _that_. It was bad enough when Wellbelove’s hands were all over Snow, but _Bunce?!_ They weren’t even dating! Baz felt the jealousy eat at the pit in his stomach, a twin flame to the arousal and desire that flared up suddenly on seeing Snow’s bare hip. And the _blood_. Baz wanted to lick it off him. Then lick a lot lower.

He’d moved forward to talk to them almost without realizing it, desperate both for Snow to look at him and also for Bunce to stop _touching_ him forever. He achieved one of those desires, at least. He’d also gotten a decent rise out of Snow, the man was so _easy_.

Still, he had to be more careful. He had to stop provoking Snow, lest he do something really rash ending in a physical altercation. Baz could remember in vivid detail the exact moment Snow had last touched him. It was last year, Seventh Year, just before he’d run off to fight some glorious battle. Baz couldn’t be bothered to keep track, there were at least half a dozen a semester. 

He was pestering the man as he searched their room for a stupid amulet, following him around and narrating his failure to uncover it even though he had cast **Into thin air** on the thing literally yesterday. It didn’t take long for Snow to realize the true culprit, and just as Baz had made a particularly clever aside about Snow’s ability to bend over while he searched behind a laundry basket, the man shot up and had him shoved against the wall, breathing fury in his face.

Baz was sure the Anathema had known that he had liked it, because nothing had happened to Snow. He’d just stood there spewing his anger and accusations, oblivious to Baz’s shock and discomfiting _pleasure_. It took all his strength to cast **Come out, come out, wherever you are** so that Snow could have his stupid amulet and _leave_.

_Leave him in peace for a quick and brutal wank where he came hard thinking of Snow pressing him up against the wall and-_

Baz shook the memory from his head. Yes, he would need to be less of an irritant to Snow to prevent any further complications. Or maybe more of an irritant to encourage them. He hadn’t decided.


	3. No Shirt, No Shoes

### SIMON

The next few weeks had been a snitty hell. Baz was snapping at him for the slightest offence. He walked too loudly in the morning before Baz’d woken (Baz would sleep till noon if he could get away with it). He ate like a pig and left crumbs everywhere (like Baz didn’t scatter salt and vinegar crisp bits like confetti). He’d left the window open again (alright, he had, but it was only because their room was three thousand degrees centigrade). One thing after another until Simon was almost at his breaking point.

And then, for what was likely the millionth time, Baz made fun of his clothes and for some reason this time it was a step too far. He had been in the middle of pulling on his red school jumper when Baz pointed out how raggedy it was and how _inferior_ it was to literally anything he owned, handkerchiefs included. Simon just lost it. He yanked the jumper off, threw it on the bed, and the whole thing (bed included) burst into flames. 

Baz had yelped and thrown himself back against the far wall, and for a moment Simon had the urge to let the flames spread. Let them burn and burn until there was nothing left. But he closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe, stilling himself and the fire at once.

It worked, of course it worked, but his bed was worse for wear and his jumper was ashes. He’d had to wear one of his t-shirts with his school uniform that day, which left him feeling like he was back at one of the children’s homes the Mage sent him to, wearing all his clothes at the same time so nothing would get nicked. 

The laughter in Baz’s eyes was the worst of all. He could tell how miserable it made Simon when he was unable to wear the full uniform, he _knew_. And that’s really how Simon justified what he’d done next. Of course he had not expected Baz to be quite so upset, because after all, it was only a jumper.

### BAZ

He’d woken up a little later that morning having stayed awake far too late staring at Snow while he slept. Bleary-eyed, he remembered thinking that he must have left some of his clothes lying around on Snow’s side of the room because something smelled of cedar and bergamot. That wasn’t like him, he was persistently tidy. But then the scent moved, and he opened his eyes, and-

“Is that my jumper?”

Snow had barely glanced up from where he was tidying his bed, wearing _Baz’s clothes_. “You wreaked mine, I needed another one.”

“Is that. My. Jumper.” The indignation and horror he felt in that moment leeched out of him through his words, enough that Snow glanced up from what he was doing, his face hard and closed.

“Yes. You ruined my jumper. So I took yours.”

_Crowley!_ Baz sat straight up in bed and clutched the edge of his mattress, willing himself not to fling himself across the room at Snow. It was sheer torture being around him like this. With Snow wearing Baz’s clothes. Baz could _smell_ him across the room, the fact that _his scent_ was on _Simon_. Crowley, he was calling him Simon in his head again. But it was like they had fucked, like he’d rubbed himself all over Snow, like he’d _claimed_ him the way he wanted to. The way he imagined in his deepest, darkest dreams. 

It was too much. Too much and not enough.

“Fucking take that off _now!_ ” _And while you’re at it, take the rest off too_.

“I need it, I only had the one and now I’m out.”

Baz gritted his teeth. “You burnt your own jumper to a crisp, you bloody simpleton! It is not _my fault_ that you no longer have one. Give mine _back!_ ”

“No.”

“What do you suppose everyone’s going to _think_ if you start walking around in my clothes?”

“Come off it. It’s the same jumper as mine, no one will even notice.”

Of course Snow would assume an Armani jumper was the same as his just because it was also _red_. What fucking straight-boy nonsense. 

“It most assuredly is _not_ the same jumper! Do you even know how much _money_ that cost? As opposed to that trash synthetic nightmare you shoved on every morning?” 

And Snow was stretching it out with his dumb broad shoulders. Simon dropped the quilt he was trying to tidy with a huff and stomped over to where Baz was sitting, half under the covers and still clutching the bed as if to hold himself back. _No, no, no!_ Every step he took closer to Baz made him want to just throw caution to the wind and pull the curly-haired boy on top of him.

Snow put his hand on his hips, mere inches from where Baz was sat. Merlin, the mix of their scents together on Snow was intoxicating. 

“You know, if you would just _consider_ being nice for even a _moment_ I might have given it back! But no, now that you’ve needlessly insulted my old jumper, which was perfectly good thank you very much, I don’t think I will!”

Baz made an animal sound, stood up and yanked at the jumper, catching Snow off guard. Apparently he hadn’t thought he’d be so brash as to risk the Anathema’s vengeance, but what Snow didn’t realize is that if he didn’t get that jumper off _immediately_ Baz was most certainly going to get booted for attempting to molest his roommate.

As it was, Snow yelped and tried to shove away Baz’s hands, only to set them both off balance and tumbling onto Baz’s bed. Oh _gods!_ Baz immediately panicked and struggled.

“Get _off_ , Snow! You absolute _lug!_ ”

“Stop _pulling_ me!”

“Give-oof! Me the - _let go!_ Jumper!”

“The- ow! Anathema- Baz- oof! _Stop it!_ ”

And then Baz found himself pinned to the bed by Simon Snow, his hands above him, leaving him feeling totally exposed. Oh _gods_ he was getting hard. Oh _no, no, no! Why_ was he _wearing_ his _jumper?!_ Baz felt himself get dangerously close to a whimper and wanted desperately to rut up against Snow regardless of the consequences.

“Do you really want the fucking jumper that badly?! DO YOU?!”

Baz couldn’t even speak. He was sure his face was scarlet and he screwed his eyes shut, trying to imagine the least arousing things he could think of. _Bunce trimming her hair with school scissors when she thought no one was looking, rotting merwolves, a numpty fucking a troll, no don’t think about fucking._

“Great snakes, Baz! You’re mental, you know that!?”

Finally, but also much too soon, Snow pushed off him and Baz scrambled to pull his blankets up around his waist to hide his quickly-becoming-more-noticeable bulge. He glared at Snow.

“Just get _out!_ I can’t even look at you!”

It was the truth, but clearly not in the way Snow thought he meant it, because a flash of hurt crossed his face and then the usual storm of angry emotions before he stomped out of the room. Baz waited until the door slammed shut and then fell back onto the bed, letting out a whoosh of breath before stroking a hand along his stomach and only pausing for a moment before dipping his hand below his waistband.

He shouldn’t. He’d tried to stop wanking to the thought of Snow. It only made things worse afterwards. But he brushed his thumb along the length of his quickly hardening cock and shuddered. He wasn’t going to do without this time.

He stretched one arm back over his head and imagined Snow pinning it there again. Quickly summoned, he closed his eyes and brought forth the Snow of his dreams in his head. The Snow that wanted him. _Simon._

_Did you want something?_

_You know I do._

_Show me._

Baz pulled up his shirt, exposing his chest to the cool air and giving himself goosebumps. Snow, always leaving the damned window open. _You love it. You love everything about me._

_Shut up._

_I’m the one who says what to do now._

Baz groaned and started pawing himself through his pyjama pants.

_Ah, ah, ah! Wait._

_Or what._

_Or I’ll make you cum in a very different way._

Baz shuddered, imagining getting fucked by Snow in the library.

_You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Did you want everyone to see?_

_No._

The images shifted, and then they were on the bed again, but this time Snow was behind him with one hand splayed possessively across his chest and the other jerking him off at a rough and unpolished rhythm. Then they were in the woods outside the school and Snow was fucking him into the dirt. Then the shower, Snow’s head tipped back while Baz gave him the best blowjob of his life.

_You’d let me fuck you anywhere. You’d let me do anything to you._

_Yes!_

_You desperate slut._

_Fuck!_

And then he was cumming, embarrassingly quickly with little regard for his surroundings. When he was spent, Baz threw an arm over his eyes and lay still as he felt his chest rise and fall. His heart rate slowly returned to normal, cool air dancing on his exposed skin. It was official. This year was going to be unbearable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who's curious, this is the jumper: https://bit.ly/2AeDijO.


	4. A Realization

### SIMON

As much as he hated to admit it, Baz’s jumper was actually really nice. At first, he’d just worn it to take the piss out of him but now Simon thought he actually might keep the thing. What kind of fabric was it? Skinned baby seal? Felt like it.

Simon smirked to himself thinking about Baz’s reaction this morning. He’d been so upset! Simon hadn’t even seen him in Greek, was he avoiding him? Good riddance! It wasn’t as though he didn’t deserve getting yelled at every now and then. If he would just learn to… no, being pleasant was far too much to ask, but perhaps slightly less everyday cruelty would be an attainable goal for Baz.

The smell of sour cherry scones wafted down the hall, and Simon felt his pace quickening, hugging his Greek textbook to his chest. He was starving, he hadn’t eaten in _ages_ , maybe even hours. Rounding the corner, he was surprised to see Agatha sitting alone in their usual spot. Where was Penny? Probably caught up in a book somewhere. He wished she was here now, there had been a strange tension between himself and Agatha these past few weeks. Like she was never happy to see him, but also never happy when he left. Simon wished she would just tell him what she wanted so they could get on with it.

Still, she was his girlfriend, and even if he was doing a fairly shit job of being her boyfriend he should make an attempt. What was it that Penny had said the other day? _Communication, Simon! Relationships are about communication_. That was perfect, because Simon was definitely known for his verbal skills.

He sat across from Agatha at the table, her face covered by an open copy of the Magickal Record, and tried not to put too much food on his plate. “Reading?”

Great start, got a word out. Agatha put down the newspaper slowly and lowered her autumn-coloured eyes to Simon’s chest. “Are you wearing Baz’s sweater?”

"What? Oh, yeah, he ruined mine so I’ve nicked it. You should’ve seen him in the room this morning, thought he was going to have an aneurysm.” Simon took a massive bite out of one of the three scones he’d grabbed while Agatha just stared at him in disbelief.

“Why would you- you know what? I don’t even want to talk about this.”

She picked up the newspaper again, blocking her face. He should say something else. Maybe a compliment? Girls were supposed to like those, although Agatha seemed to just absorb them and move on.

“Did you have a good morning?” He asked hesitantly.

There was a rustle as Agatha turned a page and then a crack as she snapped the paper straight, Simon jumping in his seat at the sudden sound. “Yes.”

Was she upset? She seemed upset. Simon nervously ate half a sandwich while glancing around the room. Still no Penny. What would Penny do in this situation? _Communication, Simon_.

“What are you reading about?”

“The Magickal Sevens.”

Ah yes. Simon had been trying to forget about those. Everyone expected him to compete. Frankly, he had not anticipated still being alive by Year 8, and thus had absolutely no strategy regarding the tournament nor any inclination to join in the festivities. But now that Year 8 was upon him, the Mage had been all _you must represent us to the world_ and _your power was not meant to be contained by mere geographical boundaries_. Simon thought it was all a load of codswallop and that it was going to do nothing to help defeat the Humdrum, which was what he should really be focusing on.

The way the Mage explained it, the Magickal Sevens were one of the most important magickal events in a generation. Seven students from seven continents who had finished seven years of magickal study were to gather at Watford and compete in a series of contests requiring strength, intelligence, and magickal finesse. Simon kept pointing out to the Mage that he really only had one of those three, but the Mage would brush him off and point out that it was the Wavering Woods that chose a continent’s champion, and that there he would be shown his true self. All Simon could think was great, the fucking Woods again. As if that place didn’t hate him enough. Well, the feeling was mutual.

Still, Simon felt a jangle of nerves in his stomach at the thought of the approaching Sevens. “When’s the selection again?”

“Hallows Eve.” Agatha answered without putting down the Record.

Simon snorted. “Right, of course.” Simon loved the magickal world, but why did everything always have to be so _dramatic?_

Agatha suddenly threw down the newspaper and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m done with this.”

Speaking of dramatic. “With the Magickal Record? Alright, did you want to recycle it or-”

“No, Simon!” Agatha pinched the bridge of her nose, something she usually only did around Simon when she was finding him to be particularly obtuse. Uh-oh. Simon tilted his head and leaned forward.

“Is it- are you worried about the Sevens?”

Agatha didn’t shift her position in the slightest, screwing her eyes shut. “No.”

A horrible thought occurred to Simon. “Is it Baz? Are you cheating on me with Baz?”

He’d seen them in the woods together on that horrible day a year ago, looking straight out of a movie about knights and princesses. Simon felt his stomach twisting just thinking about it. But all Agatha did was gesticulate to the heavens as if _Simon_ was the ridiculous one.

“Oh my god, Simon!”

Simon crossed his arms over his chest. “If you cheated on me with Baz I deserve to know!”

“Will you _shut up_ about Baz for _one minute?!_ Can’t my own breakup even be about me, for Crowley’s sake?”

Confusing. Breakup? Were they breaking up? Agatha was so confusing. “This is about you, Agatha, what do you- I don’t understand what you’re-“

“He’s in love with you, Simon!” There was a pause where it seemed like the whole dining hall stopped what they were doing and tried to eavesdrop, but Agatha just rolled her eyes and cast **There’s nothing to see here**. Once everyone had turned away, Agatha leaned in and spoke more quietly but with the same level of intensity. 

“He’s so clearly besotted and you can’t even see it, it’s _infuriating!_ He’s not _interested_ in me, alright? Just like I’m not interested in you anymore.”

Ouch. Simon leaned back and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He must have looked as hurt and shocked as he felt, because Agatha’s gaze softened and she reached out across the table to awkwardly pat Simon’s arm.

“I’m sorry, but you must have realized…we haven’t really been happy for years now, Simon.”

What did that even mean? “We haven’t? I feel fine.”

“Fine is not good, Simon. Fine is just…being together should feel _good_. It should feel _exciting_. We should want to spend time together.”

“I want to spend time with you.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes. “I saw you scanning the room for Penny before you came to sit with me.”

Oh. Honestly, Simon had already forgotten that he’d done that. Was Agatha right? Were they unhappy? Simon tried to think of the last time they’d been alone together without him feeling anxious and uncomfortable. Nothing was coming up.

“I’m not saying we can’t still be friends, Simon. But we can’t keep doing this. Whatever this is. I need to be more than a footnote in the Great Simon Snow Saga. I need to be my own person.”

Her own person? “But- I don’t understand what-”

“Just think about it, Simon. For once in your life take a minute and really think this through. I think it’s important not only for you to learn more about other people’s feelings, but also for you to learn more about your own.”

Agatha stood up, and Simon felt like the floor was about to open up underneath him.

“Goodbye, Simon. I’ll see you later.”

Simon watched her walk out of the dining hall, everyone in their vicinity still happily chatting away and eating their lunch. The spell had held, at least. He had time before the whole school would know what had happened. 

He and Agatha weren’t together anymore. He could hardly believe it. Who was he without Agatha by his side? What did this mean for today, and tomorrow, and the rest of his life?

“Trouble in paradise?”

Simon slowly turned his head to the opposite end of the table, where a trio had just stood up, revealing- fuck no. “Leave me alone, Baz.”

How much had he heard? Everything? How long had he been sitting there? Baz slid down the bench so that he was sat across from Simon, a manic glee radiating from his face. “So sad to see young love die. The tides of time taking their effect. Of course, you two have had problems for years now.”

This man was decidedly _not_ in love with him. “Shut up!”

“You know, I’m glad that you have my jumper. Looks like you’re going to need all the comfort you can get now that you’ve been abandoned by literally anyone who’s ever loved you.”

“ **Leave me ALONE!** ” The magic pushed out of him without Simon even realizing it, knocking Baz back about 15 feet in a shock wave and refusing to let him come any closer even after he’d stood up and dusted himself off. The dining hall was a mess of plates and people scattered about, knocked this way and that by Simon’s magic. He flushed as he took in the damage.

“Very mature, Snow!” Baz shouted and marched out of the room, whispers and murmurs growing as students took furtive glances at Simon sitting in the epicentre of the mess he’d made.

One blessing did emerge in this disaster of a lunch, Penny rushed out of the crowd and sat down beside Simon. “What was _that_ all about?”

Never mind, not a blessing. Just more talking. “I don’t want to talk about it, Penny.”

“Where’s Agatha?”

“I _said_ I don’t want to talk about it, Penny!”

And he really didn’t. He didn’t want to talk about it while Penny helped clean up the scattered plates and food all across the dining hall, or while Penny scarfed down a baguette as they hurriedly made their exit, or in the stairwell before Latin. But after an entire class of Penny hissing at him in Latin and then again all through the first half of ‘History of the Magickal Realms’, he finally broke and blurted out the whole story while the professor’s back was turned.

“So she thinks Baz is _in love with you?_ ”

“Yes! Did you also hear the part where I said Agatha _broke up with me?_ ”

Penny tutted sympathetically. “I am sorry to hear that, Simon, although you know that I think that one was a long time coming. You two have had problems for years now.”

“What problems? Why does everyone keep saying that?

“You know, Baz being in love with you would explain a lot of his behaviour.”

“He’s not in love with me. He hates me.”

“I think he might be in love with you.”

“Or he could just be trying to murder me like I’ve always said and you could get your head out of the gutter.”

Penny frowned. “Being gay isn’t anywhere near the gutter, Simon.”

“But being a vampire is. Because that’s where the rats are that they feed on. In the gutter.”

“Very clever. You know what we should do?” Simon would bet his left arm she was going to say investigate. “Investigate!”

Nail on the hammer. He rolled his eyes, quickly checking to make sure the professor still wasn’t paying attention. “Is there a book in the library I missed titled ‘How to Tell if your Roommate is Secretly in Love With You or Just Trying to Murder You’? Because I haven’t seen it.”

“No, Trixie!”

“What?” Sometimes trying to follow Penny’s train of thought made Simon’s head spin.

“My roommate, Trixie! We could ask Trixie!”

“Are you just saying that because she’s the only gay person you know?”

“Look, do you have a better plan?”

Simon shrugged, looking down at his practically non-existent notes and fidgeting with his pencil. “Why even bother?”

“Simon, you’ve been obsessing over whether or not Baz is ‘up to something’ since first year. How many conversations have I been forced to endure about his latest so-called plot over the last seven years? It’s been Baz this, Baz that, and now we _finally_ might _actually_ be able to understand his motivations, which could also be a useful tool in the War with the Families by the way, and you’re saying _why even bother?!_ Who are you and what have you done with my friend Simon Snow?”

“You do have a point.”

“Of course I do. Come on, let’s go!” Penny stood up, seemingly forgetting that they were still in the middle of class. Professor Lewicks turned from the blackboard, where he was writing about the Second Troll Rebellion of 1215, to frown at her over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

“Penelope Bunce! If you would be so good as to sit down, that would be most appreciated. This is a troll uprising, not a girl-who-is-incapable-of-paying-attention uprising.”

“Sorry, sir!”

Penny sat back down quickly, and Simon did his best to hide his laughter. Penny still noticed, and raised an imperious eyebrow at him. “After class, then?”

Simon nodded. “Fine, after class.”


	5. I'm Too Sexy

### SIMON

“You know, he _is_ a bit of a himbo. I can sort of see the appeal if I squint.” 

For the last hour, Simon and Penny had been speaking with Trixie and her girlfriend Fearne, a trans woman who must have had Faun ancestors somewhere in her family history because she had two very cute, curvy horns protruding from the top of her head. They’d spent most of the time analyzing Simon, which Simon found endlessly bewildering.

“English, Trixie! Nobody knows what a ‘himbo’ is!” Penny spat out. She was quickly losing patience with the couple’s rather aimless and fanciful style of conversation.

Fearne helpfully jumped in to answer. “A himbo is like a friendly term for a male bimbo, usually someone who is quite muscular but might lack the intelligence to-”

Penny did not wait for her to finish. “Can you just answer our question please?”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “Yeesh! Alright, Bunce! Keep your hair on! So you want to know if Baz is in love with Simon.”

Penny gritted her teeth in frustration. “Yes, that is what we asked you _over an hour ago._ ”

“Well, _Penelope_ , I will cut right to the chase then. He is.”

“He is?” Simon asked, surprised by Trixie’s certainty.

“He definitely is.” Fearne nodded.

“How do you know that?” Penny asked, looking about ready to tear her hair out.

“We just do. He has an aura.” Trixie illustrated the word aura by floating a hand delicately around Penny’s head while she swatted at it.

“Perhaps I should have been more clear, _Trixie_ , what _evidence_ do you have that Baz is in love with Simon?”

Ignoring Penny, Fearne turned to her girlfriend and played with one of the many bell earrings adorning her pointy ears to draw her attention. “Trix, are we sure he’s in love with him? Perhaps it’s just a very strong attraction.”

“You _just said_ he was _definitely_ in love with him.” Penny grouched.

Trixie also ignored Penny and placed a hand on Fearne’s knee. “You make a good point, love. Attraction can be equally powerful.”

“Excuse me! We’re still here!”

Trixie glared at Penny. “Bunce, just because you lack the capacity to display physical affection doesn’t mean you should limit the expression of others around you.”

“I am PERFECTLY CAPABLE of-”

Simon cut in before this turned into a brawl. “So Baz is definitely gay though?”

“Yes.” Trixie nodded.

“Or Bi.” Fearne added.

“Yes, or Bi. Or Pan. Or queer. Or he might identify differently, or not at all, but if I had to hazard a guess I would say that that man is a big flaming homo.”

“Agreed.” It was Fearne’s turn to nod, while Penny sulked and leaned back against the couch in the girl’s common area where they were seated. Although he didn’t share Penny’s animosity for Trixie, he did feel more than a little perplexed and overwhelmed by this conversation. It seemed like rather than giving them more answers, the conversation had just unveiled more questions. Simon tried to focus on the most important one.

“But is he in love with me?”

Trixie tilted her head back in thought, the bells on her ears softly jingling as she did so. “I mean, that’s difficult to say. He’s definitely attracted to you.”

“Hopelessly.” Fearne added.

“How do you know that?” Simon pressed for more answers.

Trixie scoffed. “Please.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean.” Penny continued to not be amused, and Fearne to her credit kept trying to exude a hippy-style calm over their gathering.

“Follow the eyes, Penny.”

“That does not clarify things for me, Fearne.”

That quip did not please Trixie, who seemed the most irritated when Penny was curt with her girlfriend. “Why are we bothering with these straight people, love?”

Fearne frowned and tilted her head to one side. “I don’t think that one’s straight.”

Was she talking about Simon? “Are you talking about me? I’m straight!”

“Are you?” Trixie offered in retort.

“Yes?”

Penny rolled her eyes. “For the _love_ of _Morgana_ can we please FOCUS! How do we even know that Baz is gay? Or in love with Simon? Or attracted to Simon? How do we even know ANY of this?”

“Haven’t you noticed he’s never had a girlfriend?” Fearne calmly replied. Simon felt like if he furrowed his brow any further the folds would start digging into his brain.

“But that’s because he’s always after Agatha.”

A snort from Trixie. “Is he though, Simon? _Is. He._ ”

“Or is he perhaps just trying to play with your toys so you’ll notice him, Senpai?” Okay, now Fearne was taking Simon’s confusion to another level.

“Senpai?”

Trixie groaned as if _Simon and Penny_ were the confusing ones. “You two have _got_ to keep up with meme culture, it’s the cutting edge of spells you know.”

“It most certainly is not!” Penny snapped back. Fearne was having none of it and jumped in to defend her girlfriend.

“Yes, it is! Did you read Vixen Populi’s treatise on the application of Meme Lordery in defensive and mechanical spellwork?”

“No! Like I would read that pile of-”

Simon cut in again, desperate to wrap this conversation up. “So what do I do about it?”

A raised eyebrow from Trixie. “What do you want to do about it?”

“I’d want to know for sure how he felt before I did anything.”

“Then you ask him.” Fearne supplied.

“Ask him?”

“Yes.” Fearne continued. “Use your words. Ask him if he has feelings for you.”

“I can’t do that! He’d _murder_ me!”

“Murder your mouth, maybe.” Trixie muttered.

“There’s got to be another way to figure out whether or not he’s attracted to me without- without having to-”

Trixie threw the pillow in her lap to the side of the couch in a huff. “Ugh! Boys. Well if you insist on not being an emotionally intelligent, well-rounded person who is capable of adult conversations, I suppose you could flirt with him and see what happens.”

What an idea. Simon was fairly certain experimentally flirting with Baz would be a death sentence. “Are you _mental?_ ”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Trixie shrugged.

Penny stood up abruptly, pulling Simon up with her by the arm. “Trixie, Fearne, thank you for your time and your insights. We do have to leave now, as I cannot stand to continue this conversation for a moment longer. But I am sure that you know that we are indeed grateful for whatever this was. You did your best.”

This earned another eye roll from Trixie. “Always a pleasure, Bunce.”

Penny practically dragged Simon out of the room, complaining all the way to dinner and then all the way through dinner about how useless that whole conversation had been and how many different ways she could have used that time more wisely. Most of them were to do with school, so Simon sort of tuned her out and just grunted or shrugged when it seemed like it was needed. Meanwhile the wheels in his brain were turning at breakneck speeds.

Baz might be in love with him. _Baz_. His cruel-apparently-gay-mortal-enemy-vampire-roommate might actually be in love with him. Or at the very least attracted to him. Simon wasn’t really sure what he should do with this information. But he did know what he _wanted_ to do with this information.

Out of habit, he scanned the dining hall for that familiar pair of stormy grey eyes. He spotted Baz walking with Niall on the opposite side of the hall, speaking intently, and almost as if he could sense Simon’s eyes on him he glanced up. Their eyes met. On impulse, Simon slowly smiled and then winked at him. Baz’s look of shock was almost comical, and then the tall boy tripped on absolutely nothing and walked into one of the open doors at the exit.

Baz _walked into a door!_

Huh. Interesting.

He looked quite flustered and embarrassed about it too, and then more than a little irritated when he noticed Simon laughing at him across the room. He exited in a huff, taking such long strides that Niall almost had to run to keep up with him.

Fearne had said to follow the eyes. Well the eyes seemed to suggest that Baz really liked looking at Simon. And probably wanted a lot more than just a look. Simon smirked. It seemed like the tables had finally turned, and for once Baz was going to be the flustered one who couldn’t figure out what to say. Simon was going to make sure of it. 

_Oh, this was going to be good._

  


### BAZ

Snow was up to something. And yes, that was usually Snow’s line, and it was usually thrown at Baz after he’d done something innocuous like threatened to murder a small child or left a pile of dead birds on Snow’s fresh laundry, but in this case Baz was beginning to understand how it felt on the other side because _Snow was definitely up to something_.

The man had winked at him. _Winked at him!_ In public! In the dining hall! At that moment, Baz had felt his heart leap into his throat and he’d forgotten where he was. Quite literally, because he’d immediately walked into a door _like an imbecile_. For a second after that, he’d thought he must have hallucinated the wink, but then he saw Snow laughing at him and it turned out to be much worse than that.

Snow had done it on purpose. To unsettle him.

But _why?_ Had it just been for a bit of a laugh? Did he know something about Baz? _Did he know that he was gay?_

Baz had been extremely careful over the years. Having a well-connected family made it very difficult to keep secrets. Everyone talked to everyone, so the few times Baz had _experimented_ it had been with normals. Normals with broad shoulders and curly hair who were too drunk to care if he called them by another name in the stall of a men’s restroom.

_So how would Simon Snow, the least perceptive person he had ever met, have found out that he was gay?_

Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe Baz was jumping to conclusions. After all, it was just one wink. Snow had been broken up with by Wellbelove, perhaps he’d gone a little batty in the aftermath. Or had gotten day-drunk in order to cope with having multiple emotions at the same time, something Baz assumed was a completely new experience for him.

Putting aside his paranoia, the whole thing had been incredible. A newly single Simon Snow had _winked_ at him! Never in his wildest dreams did he think that Simon Snow would be the least bit flirtatious towards him, let alone single during their time together at school. Sure, he still probably hated him and was straight as an arrow, but Simon Snow was _single_. He had been broken up with. Maybe he would get so horny and desperate without Wellbelove around that he would ask Baz for a blowjob. 

_And maybe pigs would fly and hell would freeze over._

Baz thought again about apologizing for his behaviour towards Snow after overhearing the tail end of his breakup with Wellbelove. He probably shouldn’t have said what he said about everyone who’d ever loved Snow abandoning him, that had been rather cruel even for Baz’s standards. His impulse was always to pull at Snow’s strings, but of course Snow’s impulse was to push everyone (especially Baz) away from him. Ideally as far away as possible. 

The literal push Baz had experienced in this case had been a startling one. If Baz sat without moving he could still feel the ghost of Snow’s smoky magic pulsing through him. What a rush that had been! Almost as good as having Snow on top of him, pinning him to the bed.

_Enough_. It was best to let it all go. One wink did not constitute a relationship, nothing would come of it. Snow was just doing it to get a rise out of him, and it had worked.

Baz heaved a great sigh and headed off to Political Science, where he would no doubt be forced to stare at the back of that stupid mop of curly hair while trying desperately to pay attention to whatever the professor was saying. Could be worse. Although it was starting to feel like it couldn't.


	6. Super Sleuth

### SIMON

Simon had spent the next week taking Trixie’s advice and continuing to watch Baz’s eyes. Which it turned out involved a lot of catching Baz staring at him and then blushing and turning to look at something else. Simon getting changed in the morning? Baz was staring. Simon waking up in the middle of the night? Baz was staring. Simon stretching shirtless after running another of the magickal obstacle courses the Mage had set for Simon for the thousandth time? Baz was staring. So it did seem increasingly likely that Baz was attracted to him.

It had taken Simon a couple of days to figure out how best to test this theory further. If Baz was a girl, Simon would have known what to do right away. There were loads of girls always following him around, more so now than ever since Agatha had broken up with him and word had got out. There had even been a few who would wait outside his room in the morning until Baz had spelled the landing into a swamp with **Bubble, bubble toil and trouble**. Another indication that Baz had a vested interest in him remaining single.

In the end, Simon just decided to treat Baz like a girl and see what would happen. And so far, it was working out better than Simon could have ever dreamed. Baz would say something mean, so Simon would call him ‘darling’ and watch him turn into a spluttering mess. He would catch Baz watching him change, so he would do it a little slower and then look at him, forcing Baz to make some kind of excuse and then lock himself in the bathroom. And his absolute favourite, casually touching him.

A hand on the shoulder to get Baz to turn and face him. Touching his elbow to move him out of the way of the bathroom door in the morning. And the riskiest of all, pressing his knee against Baz’s when they sat together in class, pretending that he was just man-spreading.

Even he could tell he was driving Baz crazy. So that much was clear. Baz was attracted to him. Seemingly very, _very_ attracted to him. Which left him with only one plan of action, really. He had to do what he did best. Drive Tyrannus Basilton Pitch to his breaking point.

  


### BAZ

What the fuck was going on. _What_ the _actual fuck_ was going on?! Baz felt stretched thin, constantly on alert, nearly always a bit aroused, and far too needy for his own good. Snow had clearly gone _round the bend_. That, or he knew something that Baz didn’t because Baz was 90% certain that Snow was _flirting with him_.

At first, he had just assumed that he needed to be less obvious with his staring because Snow was catching him doing it way more often. But then they’d been in the middle of a fight about Snow leaving his clothes strewn about the room and Snow had called him _darling_.

He’d _called_ him _darling!_

Baz honestly could not remember what was spoken after that because his train of thought had gone right out the window, but that was nothing compared to the _touching_. Because now Snow also touched him _all the time_. It made him feel like he was on fire, like sparks were traveling up his body straight to his unevenly beating heart. Baz had done more wanking in the past three weeks than he’d done the entire previous year before that. For the first time in his life, his lust for Snow was stronger even than his blood lust. 

And it was starting to show.

The worst had been a couple days back. Baz had woken up late, as per usual. Snow was nowhere to be seen in the room, a small and unexpected mercy. Baz rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom to shower. Usually, Baz showered in the morning and Snow showered at night. It was one of their many unspoken rules founded in order to keep the peace. So when Baz had stumbled blearily into the bathroom that day, he had certainly not been expecting what he had seen. 

Simon Snow. In the shower. Completely naked.

It would be one thing if they had a proper shower door, but what they had instead was a _sheet of glass_ with a door handle and that _sheet of glass_ was not leaving _anything_ to the imagination and Baz was just standing there and-

Snow turned towards him, water dripping down his perfect freckled chest. Abs chiseled just so, the air steamy and warm. Baz felt the heat rise to his cheeks but it was as if he was rooted to the spot, eyes traversing lower and lower until-

“Were you thinking of joining?”

Baz’s eyes snapped up to meet Snow’s, who was _smiling_ at him! Little crinkles sitting in the corners of his gorgeous blue eyes, hair fighting to spring back up into his usual unruly curls despite being dripping wet. Gods below, Baz was gone. This was going to be how he died. He couldn’t even speak, and he was quickly becoming painfully hard.

Simon turned off the water and pulled his towel down from the hook beside the shower, wrapping it around his waist and walking over to where Baz was stood, breathing a little more heavily than he should have been. _Oh, gods!_

“Morning, Baz.”

“Muh- I- You’re-”

“What’s the matter, Baz? Cat got your tongue?”

_You should get my tongue._

He kept stepping closer, crowding Baz back against the wall. Baz reflexly walked backwards until he felt the cool tiles of the bathroom wall at his back, the whole time being entirely uncertain where to focus. The bead of water sliding along Snow’s collarbone (no!)? The smell of Snow, warm and this close and freshly out of the shower (no!)? The two freckles along Snow’s rosy cheekbones (no!)? Snow’s lips slightly moist and pink and apart as he (no! No! NO!)-

“I know you usually shower first thing in the morning, but I forgot about that trap you set on the landing. Clumsy of me. Had to shower off the slime.”

“Mmhmm!”

“Thanks Baz. Really appreciate it.” And then he did the unthinkable. He cradled Baz’s cheek in his free hand not holding up his towel, swiped a thumb slowly along the line of his cheekbone, patted his face twice, and then turned and _left_.

Baz literally sank to the floor.

_Oh_ good _lord!_

He waited until he heard Snow finish getting changed and then heard the door of their room click shut before he proceeded to have the shortest wank of his life right there on the bathroom floor. It was amazing, really. Not the wank, although sadly that too. Baz hadn’t thought he could sink any lower and yet here he was, literally at his lowest point, lying on the floor after being sexually tormented by the love of his life who was _probably just doing it to mock him_. He thought he might cry, but whether out of sheer sexual frustration or anguish Baz couldn’t tell.

He couldn’t escape Snow, but he also kept being drawn further in every time, like a moth to the flame. Which was an apt metaphor because Baz was flammable. Not only would Baz feel Snow’s presence everywhere, but he found himself also seeking Snow out more often when they were apart. Deliberately choosing to sit beside him in class. Staring at him in the dining hall. Taking the long route back from Football practice to watch Snow run his obstacle courses.

And then there was the touching. At first it had just been a shock every time, Baz flinching away reflexively. But now he craved it. He knew he should appear more opposed, but sometimes when they were seated together he would lean closer. Sometimes when Snow touched his shoulder, he would shift his position just to feel Snow’s hand drag a little across his arm. How he longed for those touches to linger, for Snow to run his hands all over his body.

Baz’s grades were beginning to suffer because all he could _think_ about was Snow. He couldn’t concentrate. Maybe this was Snow’s plan. To arouse him into a stupor and then destroy him. Well, it was certainly working. Baz didn’t know how much longer he was going to last before he did something truly stupid. He’d already signed up for the Magickal Sevens selection ceremony in the Wavering Wood not because he had any interest in participating but rather because he knew Snow would be there. And maybe they could have some time together. Alone. In the woods.

That was the other thing, the _fantasies_. They were getting out of hand. Baz felt like he lived half his life in an imaginary world with Snow, and the other half desperate to make that imaginary world a reality. Niall and Dev had certainly noticed how much more he had been paying attention to that cursed boy, but Baz made excuses about how he was planning to murder Snow during the selection ceremony, and therefore needed to foster a level of unprecedented trust through any means necessary.

The opposite could not be more true. If this was a part of some sort of plan of Snow’s to murder him, Baz was going to follow him into the Wavering Wood like a lamb to the slaughter. He was so far gone, he hadn’t even prepared for the selection ceremony itself, which was supposedly quite an ordeal. Instead he’d spent the entire week after signing up deliberating on what to wear. Not his finest hour (or rather four days, because that’s how long it had taken him to decide). But if he were to go down, at least he would go down looking absolutely killer in McQueen (the only way to go). Only two more days, and then all hell would break loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baz's Outfit: [JUMPER](https://www.alexandermcqueen.com/ca/alexandermcqueen/jumper_cod14051918cx.html#dept=llmnrtw_glr), [SHIRT](https://www.alexandermcqueen.com/ca/alexandermcqueen/shirts_cod38895016tx.html#dept=llmnrtw_glr), [JEANS](https://shop.nordstrom.com/s/john-elliott-the-cast-2-slim-fit-jeans-hover/5547099?origin=category-personalizedsort&breadcrumb=Home/Men/Clothing/Jeans&color=hover), [SHOES](https://shop.nordstrom.com/s/balenciaga-santiag-zip-boot-men/5309324?origin=category-personalizedsort&breadcrumb=Home/Designer/Men/Designer%20Shoes&color=noir)


	7. Getting Ready

### SIMON

All of Watford was abuzz with activity. Everywhere you went, students were decorating, moving furniture, dashing off to the kitchen in aprons, and cleaning statues that Simon hadn’t even realized were there until someone took three layers of dust off of them. Even the grounds were a flurry, as stands were being set up for the audience of the Selection Ceremony near the Wavering Wood.

“So excessive.” Penny rolled her eyes, organizing the pile of books on the Magickal Sevens she’d taken out of the library. She precariously scooped up the titles from the no-doubt historically significant desk in the hallway they’d stopped beside (judging by the demeanour of the student with a feather duster impatiently waiting for Penny to finish) before they continued on their way to the dining hall.

“Just _how_ we’re going to fit another sixty students in this school is _beyond_ me. Did you see the Mage ordering around those Normals with the cots this morning? The poor things were so spelled up they were bumping into the walls. He might as well have just magicked the cots into the spare classrooms.”

Simon ignored Penny, instead glancing around the hallway and then around the dining hall once they’d entered for his roommate. “Have you seen Baz this morning? He’s signed up for the Selection, can you believe it? Like he even cares about the Magickal Sevens. Probably just doing it to try and destroy me.”

“Simon.” Penny looked as though she was about to say something and then thought better of it, dropping her books at their usual spot in the dining hall. Simon sat across from her, frowning.

“What is it?”

“No, it’s nothing.” She shook her head and shuffled the stack of books.

“Penny, come on now.” Simon waited until Penny met his eyes. 

“It’s just- what are you doing? With Baz?”

Simon blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, Simon.”

“No, I don’t?”

Penny rolled her eyes and pressed on. “We figured out that he’s attracted to you. _Very_ attracted to you. Probably in love with you. Why are you still tormenting him?”

That was too rich. Simon felt his magic stir with his temper. “Why am _I_ tormenting _him?_ ”

“Simon-”

“No, Penny, let’s go through the list, shall we? Who pushed me down an entire flight of stairs? Who set a chimera on me? Who constantly hit on my girlfriend while we were together?”

“Alright, Simon-” Penny looked wide-eyed and more than a little concerned about the smell of smoke emanating from Simon, but Simon wasn’t nearly finished yet.

“Who has stood in my way nearly every time I have tried to save this school and all our lives?! Who RUINED the voice of a perfectly innocent girl in an attempt to rob me of my own voice, once of the worst crimes you can commit in the magickal world?”

“Simon, you don’t have to-”

“-and you think that _I_ am tormenting _him?_ ”

“Yes, because you are Simon!” Penny blurted out, stunning Simon into silence. She took a breath and then carried on. “You are, you know you are, and it’s not fair that you always have to be the better person but if you don’t have feelings for him you have to stop, Simon. It’s cruel.”

Simon frowned. “I don’t have feelings for him, why would you say I have feelings for him?”

“I didn’t, I said that-”

He didn’t know why, but a sort of panic was replacing his rage just as quickly as it had come. It was suddenly incredibly important to Simon that Penny understand he was not interested in Baz. 

“Just because we spend a lot of time together doesn’t mean I have feelings for him. We’re literally roommates. Also I need to know what he’s up to, because he’s both a Pitch and a vampire whose goal in life is to murder me-“

“Well-” Penny looked skeptical.

“Is to MURDER ME.” Simon repeated more forcefully. “And then-”

“Is it, though?” Penny tilted her head and narrowed her eyes in disagreement.

“Yes! It is!”

“It’s fine if you’re attracted to him, Simon. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m NOT-!” Simon spluttered. “HOW could you-! I’m _straight!_ I am- I am absolutely not- Maybe YOU'RE-”

“Simon.”

“And even if I _was_ gay, or bisexual, or-or- _anything_ I would _not_ be interested in _Basilton Pitch_.”

“Right.”

“He’s an _actual monster_.”

“Yes.”

“I’m actually- I was thinking about seeing someone. The other day. A woman.” Simon lied through his teeth. Penny didn’t look like she believed a word of it.

“Oh really?”

“Yes.”

“What’s her name?”

“San…dra.”

“San Dra?”

“Yes.”

“Funny, I don’t think I’ve met a San Dra.”

Simon stood up suddenly, the cutlery clattering with the force of it. “I’m actually not hungry anymore! I’m going for a walk!”

“Simon! Don’t be like that!” Simon stomped out of the dining hall, ignoring Penny as she shouted after him. “We both know that’s a bloody lie! IT’S ROAST BEEF TODAY, YOU’RE ONLY TORTURING YOURSELF!”

Simon continued his way out of the castle, his stomach growling the whole time at the thought of the roast beef he’d left behind. _Accusing him of being attracted to Baz! Ridiculous! As if he would even consider cozying up to that lanky git!_

The air outside the castle on the grounds had the crisp and cool feel of Autumn, leaves a riot of colour, and the temperature was perfect for a wooly jumper. Simon tried to focus on the feel of it all instead of the rage of emotions inside him. Penny had no right to say that! He could do whatever he _wanted_ to Baz, as far as he was concerned! He deserved it! Simon ignored how that turn of phrase relocated his stomach several feet lower in his body.

Still, he did his best to calm down, taking deep breaths of the woodsy evening air. Penny was only trying to help, she was always trying to help. She’d spent the last week helping Simon prepare for the Selection even though she herself had absolutely no interest in the Magickal Sevens. What was it she’d said? Oh yeah, _'Magickal Sevens’ more like ‘Adults Watching Teenagers Nearly Get Murdered for Entertainment'_.

Simon snorted to himself, feeling a lot more calm as he shoved his hands in his pockets and continued to walk at the edge of the Wavering Wood. He certainly hoped it wasn’t the case that he’d end up murdered. Although a small part of him was happy that at least during these near-death experiences he wouldn’t be facing them alone, as opposed to his usual near-death experiences where it was basically him and Penny against the world. Now there would be sixty-something other prospective contestants during the selection, and then six others if he made it past this ordeal. 

_Fingers crossed he didn’t so that it would all be over soon_.

Without thinking too much (as was his prerogative), Simon continued to walk the grounds of Watford for the next couple of hours, only turning back to the school when the bells chimed eight. He had a reception to get to for the contestants of the Selection. He’d already missed the arrival of the sixty other students from all over the world due to his strop. Simon felt a pang of dread thinking of the Mage looking for him in the crowd during his welcome speech and not seeing him among his students, he was sure to hear about it later. _You are meant to be a magickal representative of not only Watford, but also the world, Simon!_

The guilt weighing on him a little, Simon picked up his pace as he headed back towards the dining hall where the reception was set to take place. As he picked his way through the castle, crowds were spilling out into the hallways with strange faces turning to get a look at him as he made his way to the refreshments. This was why he hated meeting new magickal beings. The _staring_. The students at Watford had mostly gotten used to him, sure the first years all had that moment where they tripped over themselves outside his classrooms, but most got past that within a month or so. But _this_ -

Feeling his face flush, Simon did his best to ignore everyone and went straight for the dandelion wine so that he could immediately start drinking. He’d asked the Mage not to have photos of him published in the Magickal Record over the years to avoid this kind of thing, but the Mage had said something about crafting a narrative and given him that very serious look that made Simon feel quite small. The Mage had reasoned that it was only a few articles over the years, and what harm would it do to indulge the public’s curiosity now and then?

 _Apparently this much harm_.

Simon refilled his glass for the second, then the third time, already feeling a bit of a buzz. Noticing more people staring the more he drank, he grabbed four cookies to try and quiet his rumbling stomach and strode over to the far wall under the newly unfurled tapestries. Hopefully everyone would just forget he was here and leave him in peace. When he saw Baz moving towards him, carving his way through the throngs of people while looking like he walked right out of a magazine, he realized that had been too much to ask. Simon grumbled to himself in frustration and tried not to look at Baz until he was right beside him.

“Hello, Snow.” The man could not get enough of him. Simon decided to play along, drinking a little deeper than he normally would from his glass and flashing his best smile at the pale string bean.

“Hello, Bazzy dear. You’re looking good today.”

Baz flushed. “Stuff it, Snow.”

“I like your sweater. I’ll have to borrow it some time. Or would you rather strip for me now?”

Simon relished the way Baz couldn’t meet his eyes. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Oh, this was new! Simon had noticed that Baz was starting to recover a little more quickly after Simon flirted with him. At first, it had been all Baz could do to remain standing and get out half a word, but now the man was getting more and more bold. Whatever, it was nothing Simon couldn’t handle.

“Oh, I _would_ Bazzy darling, do it now for me, would you?” He crooned.

Baz’s eyes widened, and he visibly swallowed, his eyes darting about to the rest of the crowd. Knowing that he had the upper hand, Simon stepped closer, tugging at the bottom of Baz’s shirt.

“We’ll start with this, and see where it goes from there.”

Baz closed his eyes. “You- you can’t just-”

“What can’t I do, Baz?”

Baz looked as though he was about to say something, opening his eyes and locking them on Simon’s. And for a moment, Simon wished he would say whatever he was thinking. His eyes looked soft and pleading, and Simon felt a strange pull in his chest. Bizarre. Why did he feel like it was all of the sudden absolutely essential that he _hold_ Baz? But Simon didn’t have another moment to think on that impulse, because they were interrupted by another prospective contestant with a voice that was distinctly American.

“Hi there. You must be Simon.”

Simon turned from Baz, dropping the edge of his shirt, and was a little bit stunned by what he saw. The man who had interrupted them was beautiful in the casual and gigantic way Simon had always been told Americans were beautiful. Tall, broad, blonde, with an indeterminate ethnicity and the sort of sun-kissed tan that made it seem as though he’d spent the whole summer surfing. It took Simon a minute to realize he’d been staring. _Weird, why was he staring?_

“Oh! Er, yes! I’m Simon. Simon Snow. Pleasure to meet you.”

Simon stuck out his hand, feeling the heat of Baz’s glare when the other man took the proffered hand and then held on for a little too long after shaking it.

“I’m Trey, one of the contestants from North America. Well, technically the US but they seem to just be grouping everyone by continents cause of the ‘Sevens’ thing. I’ve heard all about you. Is it true that you fought a chimera and won?”

Simon blushed and steadfastly avoided Baz’s eyes, which seemed to be boring a hole in his skull. “Ah, yes. Yes that is true.”

“So cool, man! You have to let me buy you a drink some time and tell me more about that.”

“Wow! That would be-”

Baz cut in, stepping a little closer so that his elbow was brushing against Simon’s. He didn’t know why, but Simon felt himself flush at the contact. “Trey. Is that perhaps Trey of the New England Cafeteria Treys?”

“Baz!” Simon admonished him, a little shocked by his behaviour. Trey looked a little taken aback as well.

“Oh! Sorry dude, is this your boyfriend?”

Simon felt Baz stiffen beside him, and Simon stepped away so that they were no longer touching. “My boyfriend?! No! No, no, no. Baz is not my boyfriend. No. I’m actually-”

Trey looked enormously embarrassed. “Fuck, dude! Are you straight? Shit, I totally stepped in it, didn’t I?”

“No, it’s fine, really! It’s- I’m not-” Simon saw Baz smirking out of the corner of his eye, and in that split second decided to throw caution to the wind. “You know what? I’d love to grab a drink with you. Let’s do it.”

Baz slowly turned to face Simon, his eyes wider than Simon thought he’d ever seen them. Simon ignored him and focused on Trey, who offered him a wide grin.

“Sick, bro! Come find me later. Or I’ll find you. You’re pretty hard to miss.” Trey winked and then walked away, hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket, leaving both Simon and apparently Baz stunned in his wake.


	8. The Selection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!! This scene contains a depiction of dubious consent and one character's shirt is ripped open. A character is also outed. Please use discretion when reading, and thank you for my readers who have offered helpful feedback and guidance with this chapter in particular.

### BAZ

So it was clear to Baz that he had somehow stumbled into his own personal hell. That was the only reasonable solution to his current circumstances. Because how in _Merlin’s name_ was it possible that things kept getting _worse?_ Baz had been sure that living with Snow as his roommate while simultaneously being passionately in love with him was the worst possible kind of torture. A torment so unendurable that surely only death would be an adequate escape to his misery. But that Simon Snow was not only _single_ but now apparently _dating men right in front of Baz_ was a whole new level of suffering Baz had never anticipated having to withstand.

He should have known something was awry when Snow didn’t turn up at the Welcoming Ceremony. Usually the Mage kept him on a two-foot leash when these kind of events rolled around. Well, not a literal leash. Baz blushed thinking about that, then buried the thought deep. _Not now!_ Now he had to _focus!_

What was going on with Snow?! He’d kept an eye out for that curly mop of hair all through the entrances of every last student from every bloody continent, scanning the overly-decorated White Chapel so frequently that Niall had asked him twice what he was looking for before he settled in the uncomfortable wooden bench. And then the speeches had begun, some political figures Baz couldn’t care less about (still no Snow), one of his wealthy relatives stirring the pot and saying vaguely speciest nonsense (still no Snow), and finally the Mage looking more than a little annoyed that his poster boy wasn’t present, blathering on about unity against the forces of evil (where _was_ he?).

He’d also been _late_ to the reception, at least having the grace to look guilty about it but then downing three generously filled glasses of dandelion wine all in a row, grabbing a fist full of cookies and running off to hide. And _this_ was the man Baz was in love with. Honestly.

Of course, Baz had gone over to him, half because Snow seemed to be in the middle of a mental breakdown and half because he wanted to see if he would notice his outfit. Both affirmatives. And they had a _moment_ , Baz could have sworn it! Right after Snow had drunkenly flirted with Baz, right after telling him to _strip_ for him (that one also needed to be buried deep for the time being), he’d looked at Baz and for once didn’t seem so closed off. He almost seemed…worried about Baz’s feelings.

And then that American trash had interrupted and _ruined everything!_ If Baz had to watch one single interaction more between the American and Snow, he honestly thought he might murder everyone in Watford and then snap that bottle-tanned tree trunk of a man in half and set fire to his corpse. Or something slightly less dramatic.

 _How_ could Snow be going out on a date with a man named _Trey_. What could he _possibly see in him?_ Was it their shared interest in stupidity and poorly-constructed sentences? Baz wasn’t completely oblivious, he knew that Snow had only agreed to the date once he’d seen Baz’s reaction, but he’d still _agreed to the date_. Wasn’t pretending to be gay and literally agreeing to a date with another man going a bit far just to piss off your roommate?

_Could Snow actually be interested in men?_

This was the burning question that overtook Baz as he assembled with the rest of the contestants in a large tent at the edge of the Wavering Wood later the next evening, the sound of a bustling crowd in the stands outside providing an enthusiastic backdrop. Baz hadn’t seen Snow since he’d ducked away from him at the reception after accepting Trey’s offer, probably rushing off to Bunce to cram right up until the Selection took place. He was beginning to worry that he wouldn’t show up when the back flap of the tent opened, revealing the Mage with his hand on the shoulder of a rather chastened looking Snow. Baz felt another flash of annoyance watching the older man lead Snow into the tent, frowning and no doubt lecturing him. _What an absolute twat the Mage was._

Snow didn’t even seem interested in the Magickal Sevens. Sure, Baz had seen him reviewing books with Bunce, running drills with the Mage, and even practicing with that fucking sword in their room ( _how_ many times had he asked Snow not to do that?!) but never with even a spark of enthusiasm. He was clearly just doing it because the Mage expected him to, and now the complete arse had the nerve to lecture him. Without really thinking it through, Baz walked over to the two, Snow looking absolutely miserable while the Mage barrelled on with his marathon of a lecture.

“-completely inexcusable! It is _never_ appropriate for you to get _drunk_ at a public event, let alone one with beings of magick from across the globe the day before the Selection. Did you even think how this would reflect on me, what on _earth_ -”

“I believe the event was scheduled to begin a full twenty minutes ago, _sir_.” The Mage gave Baz a dark look, which Baz returned. “Wouldn’t want to keep the Magickal world waiting.”

The Mage straightened his ridiculous purple jacket and dropped his hand from its death grip on Snow’s shoulder. Snow subtly tried to give it a few rolls while the Mage spoke.

“Thank you, Basilton. I was just on my way out. Simon-” Simon begrudgingly met the Mage’s stern gaze. “Don’t let me down.”

“I won’t, sir.”

“Good.” 

And with that vomit-inducing interaction, the Mage swept out of the room. Simon glanced up at Baz sheepishly.

“Er, thanks. For that.”

“Don’t mention it.”

So Snow didn’t, which was kind of the opposite of what Baz had actually wanted. But there wasn’t time to dwell on it, a canon sounded and one of the student volunteers was ushering them out onto the grounds in front of the Wavering Wood. The crowd roared its approval, a blur of colours and homemade signs cheering various students on. Baz thought he spotted more than a few dedicated to Snow and snorted his disapproval.

More volunteers were keeping the contestants from each continent lined up neatly in a row in front of a sizeable makeshift stage. Small bumblefires darted about, and Baz saw with wonder that they were a sort of magickal insect camera crew, with whatever they captured projected in three dimensions and mid-air to a hundred times their size behind the stage. Baz saw his awe-struck face gigantic and floating pixelated in front of him, then immediately rearranged his features into something more suitably indifferent. Luckily the bumblefires soon darted to where Snow was stood in front of him, looking stoic and determined, and the crowd erupted in shouts and applause. 

Typical.

“Students. You have been chosen for this moment. You have honed your skills. Studied the Sevens of the past. Screwed your courage to the sticking place.”

 _Spent a load of time picking out an outfit only to be ignored for some boy named ‘Trey’_. The Mage carried on after a too-lengthy pause.

“And now is the time. Now is your moment to do the World of Mages proud, and to represent your continent in the 496th Magickal Sevens!”

The crowd roared again, feet stomping on the wooden bleachers. Baz struggled not to roll his eyes, but felt the adrenaline pumping through him regardless. It reminded him of football, of the moments before the game on the pitch. He noticed one of the South American contestants looking more than a little queasy. Her friend comforted her.

“You will all have one hour to find the answers you seek about your future in this hallowed tournament, although some of you may be presented with answers far sooner. If you ever run into trouble, request help to the bumblefires and you will find it given to you promptly. However, this will result in you being removed from the competition.”

Baz noticed Trey in the North American line, clearly trying to catch Snow’s eye. Baz frowned. Now was not the time for _flirting_ , they were in a competition!

“The Wavering Wood awaits. Steady yourselves! The countdown begins.”

As the Mage stepped away from the stage, a countdown clock beginning from ten was projected mid-air. The crowd chanted as the numbers ticked down one by one, and despite himself Baz felt a thrill of nerves run through him.

_3-2-1-GO!_

Most of the contestants rushed into the woods, with Baz and Simon bringing up the rear along with a few other stragglers. There was no need to _run!_ Did they think the Wavering Wood was going to select them because of their impressive cardio?

Clearly not, because at least five of the contestants were immediately thrown bodily through the air by the trees just as they crossed the threshold of the forest, a booming _NO_ resounding through the grounds. The contestants didn’t look hurt, but did seem embarrassed to be eliminated so quickly. All except for the South American girl that Baz had seen earlier, who looked frankly relieved to have been booted before anything had begun.

Hearing an announcer rattling off the names of the eliminated students, Baz braced himself just in case as he crossed the threshold into the forest after Snow, but nothing happened. He continued to follow Snow, who seemed to know Baz was behind him but did not turn or speak. They walked past contestants bizarrely talking to themselves, two contestants from the same continent who had turned on each other and were in a vicious duel, more contestants just looking a little lost, and one girl blazing like the sun while a plant grew out of the ground, surrounding her. 

The bumblefires bumbled and weaved, clearly all trying to get the best shot of the action wherever it was happening. None seemed to follow him and Snow, however. Perhaps because nothing interesting was happening to either of them. They kept crashing deeper and deeper into the forest, Baz becoming more convinced with each step that maybe he should say something. That maybe he should stop following Snow. He was about to shout something insulting, just to get Snow’s attention, when the forest suddenly opened into a clearing and Simon turned to look at him.

“I knew you would follow me.”

Baz swallowed, shivering a little from the damp of the forest. “What of it, Snow?”

Snow walked closer, and Baz thought there was something off about his eyes, but then he was standing very close and Baz’s thoughts just whooshed right out of his head. 

“Are you going to tell me how you feel about me now?”

Was he- going to- _hell and horrors!_

Snow was shifting his body languidly, his eyes lazily looking him up and down in a way that made Baz feel like his body was on fire. He felt frozen to the spot as Snow grinned a lopsided grin and then tugged at the edge of the red jumper he'd stolen back from Snow (and yes he had spent more time than he was proud of burying his face in it, he was only vampire).

"Nice jumper. Looks familiar."

"Should do as it's mine." Baz replied with slightly less snark than he was usually capable.

"Can I borrow it?"

Baz was about to reply with an immediate no, but found the words trapped in his throat when Simon pushed out his bottom lip in a tantalizing pout. Without a word, he pulled off the jumper and handed it to the curly-haired menace, goosebumps rising on his arm and stomach where the breeze through the forest hit his bare skin. Baz definitely should have chosen a less revealing shirt, although Simon certainly seemed to appreciate it and you know what? On second thought, this shirt was a great choice.

He felt less like that when two seconds later Simon threw his jumper in the woods for absolutely no reason.

"Hey!" Baz protested, about to start an argument when Simon poked him in the chest.

“What’s this shirt, hmm?”

“It’s McQueen.”

“Sounds expensive.” Snow murmured while eying the planes of his chest, Baz suddenly very aware of every strategic tiny hole in the shirt. They were standing so close now that they were almost touching, if Baz just reached out a hand it would be at Simon's hip. They were breathing the same air, each puff visible in the quickly cooling night. But Baz didn't feel cold. Baz felt very, very warm indeed. Almost without realizing it, he started to lean forward, and only stopped when Simon opened his big mouth yet again. 

“Why’s it got so many holes in it if it’s so expensive?”

“It’s fucking _fashion_ you plebeian, hey!”

Snow had suddenly torn open the shirt, buttons popping as he did so, but Baz only had a moment to process this crime upon the much lauded House of McQueen before Simon took two steps back, a mischievous grin beckoning Baz further into the clearing. Baz's arousal battled with his confusion.

"Can you not-! What are you?!"

“Say it.”

“What on EARTH are you on about?!”

"Say you want me."

Baz felt himself blushing, which deepened to a full-body flush when Simon began slowly tugging up the corner of his jumper, revealing just a sliver of bare hip. What an incorrigible _tease_.

"Simon!"

"Tell me."

Gods below, so it had come to this. "Yes! Fine! I want you! Will you just-?!"

“Baz?”

Baz glanced back to the forest and was met with a very confusing vision of Simon Snow, looking rather bloodied and windswept, sword out and staring at him. But that couldn’t be, because he was here with Snow, and Snow was-

Oh no.

Baz slowly turned back to the being that was still standing in the centre of the clearing, grinning at him with Snow’s face before it rapidly transformed into the not unattractive but definitely not Simon Snow face of a fairy. The fairy grinned impossibly wider, his golden eyes manic.

“Gotcha!”

And then it poofed right out of existence. Oh _no!_ Baz collapsed to the ground, throwing his hands over his face in humiliation. It was rare that he wished Simon wasn't near him when he looked so scrumptiously ruffled, but this was one of those rare occasions. He could hear tentative footsteps approaching.

“Baz? Are you alright?”

“How much of that was filmed?” Baz asked, the sound of his voice muffled by his hands.

“Oh! Um, I think just the end bit. Who was that? There aren’t any bumblefires around you. I think they wanted to keep it PG. Not that you were- well- not that it's not fine if you were-.”

Baz groaned into his hands, lying down flat on his back in the meadow, the grass feeling wet and cool against the skin of his back.

“Hey, do you guys mind giving us a minute?”

There was some angry buzzing and then some swatting sounds and muttering, followed by more angry buzzing but this time growing fainter and then fading into the distance. Then a few more careful footsteps, and Snow was kneeling beside him in the grassy clearing, gently placing the torn open halves of his shirt back over his exposed torso. Baz felt like his heart was being torn out of his chest. 

“Baz?” Simon asked again after it had been a while and Baz still hadn’t moved.

“I hate you.”

“Alright.”

Baz removed his hands from his face and looked up at Snow, who was looking down at him with an inscrutable expression, his blue eyes like the ocean after dark.

“Your shirt has got a lot of holes in it.”

 _For fuck’s sake!_

“It’s FASHION!” Baz exclaimed, his voice hoarse with caught-up emotions.

“Well fashion seems a little impractical for late October.”

And the hands went back on his face. Baz was NOT cut out for the teasing, or the flirting, or whatever the hell was happening at this moment. 

“I was wearing a _jumper!_ You _know_ that!” He whined.

Baz felt the grass move where Simon had been kneeling beside him and then he returned moments later, placing something soft on his chest.

“Is this it?”

Removing his hands from his face, Baz sat up and started pulling on the jumper angrily, his movements jerky and a little clumsy. 

“No, this is someone _else’s_ Armani jumper left lying around in the Wavering Wood.” He snarled. 

There was a pause while they both just sat there, Baz hugging his chest and refusing to make eye contact. Finally, Snow made another attempt at conversation.

“You know fairies are supposed to be, like, really rare in-”

“I KNOW.” Baz shouted, resulting in more silence. This time a little shorter than the last.

“Baz, I don’t think anyone will care that you’re gay.”

“My _father_ will care that I’m gay.” 

Baz let out a small choked sob, curling in on himself a little. He _hated_ this feeling. Being _vulnerable_. He was a vampire, for Crowley’s sake. He was supposed to be invincible. _Especially_ in front of Simon fucking Snow! But then he felt a hand tentatively rub circles into his back and he thought it might be okay to retract a little of that sentiment.

“Do you want me to go off and spell everyone on the school grounds to forget what they saw?”

Baz almost told Simon he loved him in that moment. _Simon_. His heart almost burst when he looked up into the boy’s overly-earnest face, sniffing a little.

“S’alright. You’d probably just accidentally turn them all into frogs, anyway.”

Simon grinned, offering Baz a hand to pull him to his feet. “C’mon then. We’ve still got a Selection to finish.”

Baz’s lip curled as he took the hand and stood, and he growled his reply. “Like I give a flying fuck about the load of bollocks that is this entire Selection. I will burn this woods to the ground and everything in this damned school if I have to spend another min-”

“REMOVED.”

The forest boomed out, and before Baz knew it he was being pulled back through the trees at a rapid pace, then thrust out into the floodlights of the grounds. There was a polite smattering of applause from the stands, with a few snickers. But Baz was a _Pitch_ , goddamn it. So he got to his feet, brushed off the stray twigs and grass from his outfit, and marched off towards the Mummer’s House and the safety of his bed. Plenty of time to cry later when he was alone.


	9. The Results

### SIMON

Simon found, upon reflection, that he was feeling and thinking a lot more things than was usual for him. He was decidedly not a fan of it. He’d tried studying them away, normally preparing for something big and intimidating with Penny reduced his world to survival mode, and he’d thought he could accomplish the same thing again this time round with the Magickal Sevens. But even studying till 3AM and then crashing in the library didn’t stop the thoughts and feelings from coming.

Upsettingly, the thoughts and feelings were about _Baz_. And also about maybe being gay. Mostly related to Baz. Somewhat also related to Trey. Or should he be thinking about being bisexual? Or pansexual? He wasn’t quite sure what that one was, but he’d heard Trixie say it so he thought it might apply. Simon hadn’t really had too much time to examine his sexuality, what with all the murder and doom plaguing his every waking moment. Regardless, it seemed to be becoming increasingly relevant. After all, he’d agreed to a date with a _man_. So that would probably happen eventually.

The whole thing was a mess. Simon had briefly considered calling the whole flirt-to-torment-Baz plan off, as well as the date with Trey, but then he’d seen what he’d seen in the forest. And now Simon wasn’t sure if he could call off anything to do with Baz ever again.

It was also rather disconcerting that Baz was apparently being _nice_ to him sometimes now. He’d saved him from that horrid lecture the Mage was giving to him. And why? He hadn’t seemed to want anything in return, not even Simon’s thanks. So he must have done it just because he could tell Simon was upset. That or he really was impatient for the start of the Selection.

The Selection. That had been weird. Simon had thought Baz was right behind him, but then had seen him veer off rather sharply deep into the woods. Simon hadn’t had a moment to think it over, however, since he’d quickly been attacked by a pack of banshees, apparently relatives of the ones he’d offed at the start of the year. Needless to say, they had not been pleased with him and it had taken a good amount of swordsmanship to finish them off.

When he was done, he’d looked up and realized he too had traveled quite deep into the woods. At first, he’d thought perhaps he should head back towards the school, but then he heard a sound. Someone talking. Someone that sounded quite a bit like Baz.

He’d hacked his way through the undergrowth (much to the chagrin of the forest, which whipped him with thin branches on his way) before emerging in a moonlit clearing, taking in a sight he thought he’d never forget. Baz, shirt open and facing someone who looked an awful lot like Simon, telling them that he wanted them.

And then almost without realizing it, he’d said Baz’s name. He’d honestly forgotten he was being filmed by that point, but Baz hadn’t. God, he felt awful about that. At least once Simon figured out his sexuality he didn’t feel as though he would have to hide it, but Baz was clearly uncomfortable with anyone knowing and now the entire magickal community knew. Not only knew, but had _seen_ him saying some particularly gay things on a very big screen.

Simon wished they’d had a chance to talk more before Baz had been pulled out of the forest, probably for threatening to burn the whole thing down. If anything was to get you automatically eliminated by the Wavering Wood, that would be it. Simon had tried to rush after him, but had been held up by an extremely large and equally irate ogre. By the time he was finished with it, a gong had sounded, resonating through the whole woods, and he’d found himself sucked back to the grounds, the entire crowd roaring their approval.

Six others stood, looking equally winded and with varying degrees of shock on their faces. There was Trey, who looked very pleased to see Simon, and offered him a thumbs up from across the field. Then a young woman with a ponytail braid in a t-shirt and shorts despite it being October (must be from Antarctica), another woman who Simon recognized as the friend of the nervous woman from South America, a dark skinned Black man who congratulated Simon in a Nigerian accent, a bored-looking South Korean woman, and the last man who Simon assumed was from Australia.

The noise had been a little overwhelming, with the entire crowd screaming their heads off and the announcer’s voice booming. “I GIVE YOU THE CHAMPIONS OF THE 496TH MAGICKAL SEVENS!”

At that point, Simon had remembered to smile and wave. The announcer had introduced each of them (turns out the Korean woman was Korean-Australian, and the other guy had been the representative from Asia), and there had been loads of hand-shaking, and then when it finally seemed like they were going to be allowed to leave they were instead ushered into a tent where the Mage stood, his arms opened wide.

“The Champions of the 496th Magickal Sevens! It is my honour to welcome each and every one of you to Watford and congratulate you on this momentous feat. As I’m sure you know by now, over the next seven months you will undergo seven challenges, with one of you eliminated after each challenge. The last mage standing wins.”

Simon looked around quickly at the other faces in the tent. None of them seemed surprised by this information. The Mage gave Simon a quick wink before carrying on.

“Perhaps now, as reality sets in, some of you may be experiencing a degree of anxiety about what the challenges will entail. Rest assured that before each new challenge, you will receive a clue that if solved will greatly assist you in your preparations. The first clue is as follows.”

The Mage cleared his throat and then raised a severe brow. “The inside of me burns, though I remain unharmed. Facing me, you might be disarmed. Ancient of Watford, I draw you close. So remain with thine pairing, I’m right under your nose.”

The other champions were nodding to themselves as though they either understood or had already memorized what the Mage had said. Simon tried to furtively look around the room for a pen and paper, but not seeing anything tried to convey his distress to the Mage using only his eyes. The Mage, as per usual, ignored him.

“You all performed tremendously tonight and are deserving of a night of celebration and revelry with your comrades and compatriots. Thank you all, and I’ll be seeing you again very soon.”

The Mage left without another glance Simon’s way, leaving the seven champions alone in the tent with a volunteer. The girl from Antarctica cooly surveyed the group, then followed the Mage out of the tent, clearly not interested in interacting with anyone further.

“Nice meeting you, too!” Trey shouted after her, then turned back to the group. “Uhm, I’m Trey, by the way. From the US. Does anyone know who that was?”

“I think she said her name was Ingunn.” The rather bored looking Korean-Australian woman said.

“Cool.” Trey nodded. “Who are you?”

“Quinn.”

“Cool.” Another pause, Trey was looking around expectantly at the group, but no one was quite cottoning on. “So should we all introduce ourselves?”

“Oh, I’m Simon! Simon Snow.”

“We know who you are.” Quinn rolled her eyes.

“Er- alright then.” Simon felt more than a little awkward, but the Nigerian man offered an encouraging smile and placed his hand on his chest as he spoke, filling the silence.

“I’m Obi, I’m from Nigeria. Very nice to officially meet you, Simon. My sincerest apologies, I should have introduced myself when we spoke earlier.”

“Not necessary, it’s nice to meet you too, Obi! I’m from here, er- England.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Three guesses where I’m from.” Quinn snarked.

“Australia?” Simon asked.

“That was a rhetorical question.”

“Oh.” Simon once again felt rather embarrassed, but luckily the South American woman stepped in quickly.

“I’m Marisol! I’m from Venezuela, so the South American champion.”

“Taiyo, hey.” Taiyo, the half-Japanese man Simon had assumed was Australian, looked incredibly uncomfortable in this forced social setting. “I’m from Japan.”

“Awesome! So should we all grab drinks? Get to know one another? Apparently the legal drinking age here is like 18, isn’t that wild?” 

Trey certainly seemed to think it was, and usually Simon would love to soak up the energy of this many new people, listening to the way they’d bounce off one another during conversation. But as Trey extended his invitation, he couldn’t help but think of his roommate, alone in their room and probably still upset about the events of the Selection. 

“Sure!” Marisol answered enthusiastically, she seemed perhaps the most excited out of the group to be meeting this many new people all at once.

“I could use a drink.” Obi shrugged, and Taiyo nodded hesitantly after seeing Quinn give a non-specific but slightly positive head tilt. Trey turned to Simon.

“Simon? You coming?”

Simon shook his head. “Sorry, I’m actually going to duck out. Think it might be best if I check on my roommate. He seemed a little…distressed.”

“Boooooo.” Quinn said, arms crossed over her chest.

Trey frowned, clearly unhappy with Simon’s answer. “Alright, but you owe me!”

Simon wasn’t sure what to say to that so he just nodded awkwardly, waved goodbye to the group, and then left the tent as quickly as possible. He rushed back to the Mummer’s House, but found their room dark upon entry with Baz seemingly asleep. Simon whispered his name a couple times just to check, but when he didn’t stir, he assumed he was either asleep or didn’t want to talk. In either case, it meant Simon was due for a shower and a good night’s rest. They’d talk about it in the morning.

  


### BAZ

Baz had hoped Snow would never mention what he was referring to in his head as ‘The Incident’ ever again. He’d barely slept that night, ignoring Snow when he’d whispered his name, and then tossed and turned for hours dreading the next day. Of course, Snow slept like a log. A beautiful, beautiful log.

Because he had not slept, for once in his life he actually managed to wake up before Snow. The sun had barely risen when Baz dragged himself out of bed, showering and changing as quietly as possible before heading to the Catacombs to feed. He didn’t want to risk being thirsty today, after everything that had happened during the Selection. His whole body felt on edge, and Baz was grateful that the misty grounds were completely empty this early in the morning.

While he was below the White Chapel, he stopped by his mother’s tomb, running his hand over the engravings in the stone that marked where she lay in rest. He wondered what she’d think of him now, whether she’d be embarrassed to call a gay vampire her son. He didn’t think the gay part would bother her, but not knowing for certain left a hole in his heart that he wasn’t sure would ever be filled.

“I miss you.” He murmured to the markings, letting his head fall gently forward until it rested against the stone. Sometimes Baz wasn’t certain if he missed his mother more, or the life he imagined he would have lived had she not died in his stead.

Baz pulled himself back. There was only time to mope about one thing today, and that was being caught on camera telling his roommate he wanted him in front of the entire school, the attending British magickal community, and six contingents of mages from around the world with their friends and families. A pretty reasonable thing to be upset about.

Well, there was no use delaying things further. Straightening his spine and assuming his best disaffected expression, Baz made his way up out of the Catacombs, across the grounds, and into the Dining Hall. Even this early in the morning, there were still a few students having their breakfast, and almost all of them looked up when Baz entered. The whispering was upsetting, but Baz felt a wave of relief when he spotted Niall at the opposite end of the Hall bent over a book. He walked quickly over to him and sat down on the other side of the table.

“Niall.”

Niall looked up, sneered at him, and then got up to leave.

“Where are you-?”

“Don’t you fucking talk to me ever again!”

The force of Niall’s vitriol caused Baz to lean back, stunned. There were other students watching, and more whispers as Niall stomped out of the Hall with his book. Baz felt his heart rate picking up, even while his throat constricted and he struggled to breathe. He felt telltale pinpricks at the corners of his eyes. 

_Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry._

For the first time in his life, he felt completely alone and absolutely humiliated. And when a student dropped an intimidating-looking letter in front of him with a disinterested “Mail for Basilton Pitch”, he knew the feeling was only going to get worse. He stared at the familiar austere script on the outside of the envelope, a pit of dread quickly expanding in his stomach. He knew for certain he couldn’t open the letter here. He had to get out, but the Dining Hall was quickly filling up with students, almost all of them looking his way before finding a seat a good 10 feet from where he sat. Like his humiliation was catching.

Baz touched the envelope to his forehead and closed his eyes, barely avoiding putting his head in his hands.

“Alright, Baz?”

Baz straightened up quickly and dropped the envelope on the table, opening his eyes to see none other than Simon Snow sitting across from him. He looked around the Dining Hall, confused and thinking for a moment that Snow had gotten lost on his way to Bunce and Wellbelove.

“No, of course I’m not-! What are you-? Where are your little pets?”

Snow frowned. “Do you mean Penny and Agatha? Dunno, I think they’re not awake yet.”

“Then why are _you_ here?”

Snow shrugged. “Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I just said I’m _not okay._ ”

“That’s- I’m sorry. Should we-?”

Snow got up awkwardly, pulling one leg after another out from under the table and began to walk around the whole thing towards Baz. He extended his arms, and Baz jerked back.

“What in Morgana’s name do you think you’re doing?!”

Snow paused for a moment with a perplexed expression. “I’m giving you a hug.”

“No you’re absolutely not!”

Snow rolled his eyes. “You’ll feel better after, just hold still.”

“Simon! There’s people, they’ll-”

But Snow ignored Baz and instead sat down beside him on the bench, wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. It was more than a little awkward, mostly because Baz had all the sudden become ramrod straight and did _not_ wrap his arms around Snow in return, but he still felt his heart skip a beat at the feeling of Snow pressed up against him, his curls tickling his jawline. Baz swallowed, and then Snow pulled back.

“Did you just call me Simon?”

“No!” Baz blustered.

“Alright then.” Snow gave a small crooked smile. “You want some food?”

Baz nodded slowly, narrowing his eyes in suspicion as Snow grabbed plates for them both and started piling on more food than Baz usually ate in an entire day. The man was still trying to balance several more scones on top of the ones already loaded on the completely full plates when Bunce appeared in front of them, looking shocked to see the two of them together.

“Simon, what are you-?”

“We’re sitting with Baz today.” Snow said firmly, his tone suggesting there would be no argument.

Bunce looked like she was mapping out a whole interrogation in her head, opening and shutting her mouth while staring at Baz. Doing his best not to look completely emotionally exhausted, Baz attempted to resume his disaffected expression. But Bunce must have seen through him because she only hesitated for a moment longer before sitting down at the table. She immediately launched into a discussion with Snow about the Magickal Sevens while he stuffed his face and occasionally nicked food he’d put on Baz’s plate, as if the mountain he’d reserved for himself was not enough. 

He and Snow were sitting close, so close that the sleeves of their shirts shifted against one another when Snow extended a hand to grab his orange juice. It seemed so intimate, the quiet sound of the fabrics rubbing together amidst the hustle and bustle of the Dining Hall. Snow had sat with him like this a few times now, his leg casually pressed against Baz’s, driving him mad with want. But this time he didn’t seem to be doing it to get a rise out of Baz. It was as if he wanted Baz to know he was there for him. A comforting, solid presence.

Baz swallowed at the lump in his throat and looked down at his food, picking at his eggs with his fork as he listened to Bunce yammer at Snow.

“And you didn’t think it might be important to _memorize_ that clue?”

“I tried! Everything happened so fast!”

“Simon!”

“I know! I know!” Snow grumbled while Bunce gave a world-weary sigh.

“Okay, well we’ll just have to work with what you remember. Did you write down _any_ of it?”

Snow frowned and pulled out a small notebook, opening it to scan his chicken scratch writing. “There was something about a fire. It’s on fire, or burning. And I think there was a pair?”

“A pair of what?”

Snow looked both embarrassed and confused. “Uhm- well that’s - I don’t know, but there was also a bit about my nose.”

“Your _nose?_ ” Bunce asked incredulously.

“It’s under my nose."

“That’s it?! That’s all you remember?!”

“Also it’s ancient.”

Bunce let her hands slam down on the table. “That’s pathetic.”

“Hang on now, Penny! There’s been an awful lot going on!”

“Surely you could’ve managed to retain a little more than-”

“It’s the crucible.” Bunce and Snow both stopped jabbering to gaze at Baz, slack-jawed. “The answer to the riddle, it’s the crucible.”

“Oh.” Bunce and Snow looked at one another, and then back at Baz. “That actually does make sense. Ta, Baz.”

“Don’t mention it.”

It took a little more convincing on Bunce’s end, who still seemed to think that Baz was trying to trick Snow into believing he’d solved the riddle when he actually hadn’t (typical). But eventually she relented, and they spent the rest of breakfast trying to guess what kind of a challenge would involve the crucible in the first place before heading off to classes. Snow still trailed Baz like a puppy, head buried in his notes and trying desperately to prepare for a pop quiz he’d forgotten about. Baz continued his air of disaffection, but shortened his stride so that Snow could keep up with his pace.

Over the next week or so, it became apparent that Snow had decided to attach himself to Baz at the hip. Baz didn’t mind, especially when it turned out that both Niall and Dev were no longer interested in his friendship. Homophobic bastards. 

Snow sat with him in classes, successfully found him in the Dining Hall every time he went for a meal, and even managed to drag Bunce, Wellbelove, and an assortment of the rest of his fan club to wherever they sat. Baz slowly found himself opening up more during the conversations they had and actually enjoying his vicious debates with Bunce as well as his discussions of the latest fashions with Wellbelove (the woman really did have an eye for it). 

All the while, he could still feel the as-yet unopened letter from his father buried under his mattress where he’d left it. But he put off reading it. Another day wouldn’t hurt. And then another passed, and another, until finally he fished it out one evening while he sat on his mattress. Snow was getting ready for something in the background, probably Magickal Sevens related.

“What’s that?” Snow asked, gesturing at the letter with his hairbrush.

“What does it look like, Snow? It’s a letter.”

Snow just rolled his eyes and kept brushing his hair, only succeeding in making it more frizzy. Honestly, the man had been born with curly hair, hadn’t he read even a single article on proper care of curls? 

“I know _that_ , I meant who’s it from?”

Baz couldn’t take it anymore, and set the letter down on his bed before standing. “Stop what you’re doing.”

“What?” 

Snow looked confused, and then slightly taken aback when Baz walked over and yanked the hairbrush from his hand, tugging him by the arm into the bathroom. 

“Baz, what are you-?”

Baz pushed Snow against the counter and rustled through the bottles he kept carefully organized in a basket to the left of his sink. “Hold still.”

Selecting a cream he’d got on discount, (secretly hoping Snow might use it sometime so that he smelled a little less like a hospital due to the abysmal school-provided shower products he used) he measured out a small amount in his hands and rubbed his palms together. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he sensed Snow’s eyes on him, but he surveyed the poofy disaster that was Snow’s current hairstyle instead of meeting that gaze and began slowly running his hands through the curls. 

On contact, Snow closed his eyes and Baz felt his stomach drop three stories through his body. The urge to kiss Snow’s eyelids was overwhelming, but he resisted, instead massaging his hands into Snow’s scalp and carefully defining the curls in a way he’d only dreamed of doing previously. When Snow let out a soft sound, he pressed closer almost unconsciously until he could feel Snow’s breath on his face.

Fuck, he wanted him so badly.

But then his eyes opened and Baz felt a wash of nerves, stepping back a little to grab a serum at random just to put some space between them. He started spraying Snow.

“Hey!”

“I said _hold still!_ ”

Snow obeyed, shutting his eyes again, and _wasn’t that something_. Baz hesitated, then fingered a couple more curls, twirling them a little before stepping back to admire his work.

“Finished.”

Snow opened his eyes and turned to look at himself in the mirror. He looked good. Too good. 

“Wow, thanks Baz!”

“Don’t mention it.” Baz demurred, crossing his arms over his chest to try and stop his heart from pounding its way through his ribcage. “Where are you off to, anyways?”

Snow looked a little caught out, and Baz felt his suspicions rise. “Oh! Er- it’s- my date. With Trey.”

Baz froze. “Your date?”

“Yeah!” Snow squeaked, trying to slowly sneak his way out of the bathroom. “I’m- er- I’m actually running a little late, so I should probably head out.”

“Your DATE?” Baz roared, rage and jealousy twisting inside him.

“Later, Baz!”

And before Baz could say another word, Snow had made his escape, leaving Baz to stew alone in their room. Baz had just about had it with that boy and his teasing. _A date with Trey_. Fuck that. Baz was done with this game, and it was time Simon Snow knew it.


	10. Practice Makes Perfect

### SIMON

As Simon made his way hurriedly out of the Mummer’s House and into the grounds that were quickly gathering shadows with evening’s approach, he thought over his small spat with Baz. Simon didn’t understand why Baz was so angry. Sure, they went to most classes together and ate every meal together and were quite affectionate and constantly touching one another, but it wasn’t like they were _dating_. They were just friends. Former enemies (probably), friends (almost certainly) and roommates.

So why did Simon feel like he was cheating on Baz by going out on a date with Trey?

He’d actually almost forgotten about the date, having only seen Trey in passing over the past week and a bit. Most of his attention had been focused on Baz and making sure that he was okay, after all it wasn’t like _Trey_ had just been outed in front of the entire school. They’d waved at each other in the halls and done a bit of small talk when they were able, but Simon had also felt weird about inviting Trey to sit with them at meals. He knew it might upset Baz, so he just _didn’t do it_.

On reflection, that made absolutely no sense. Simon had invited all the other contestants to join them on one occasion or another, even Ingunn who sat sullenly at the end of their table one memorable dinner eating some kind of pickled fish. The smell of it made Simon almost glad she was so continuously anti-social.

It felt nice having Baz beside him, also not having to constantly worry about what Baz was up to or if he was planning to murder him. They’d settled into an unexpectedly comfortable groove, one where their animosity all-but vanished. That was until a few moments ago, when Simon had admitted to his date with Trey.

One little date. Baz didn’t _own_ him. He was sure Baz’d had loads of dates with men, and he wasn’t allowed to have even one?! It was unfair. And Trey seemed lovely, he’d been so patient with Simon the past week, only reminding him a couple times of their plans. When he’d brought it up yesterday while they chatted near the football pitch, Simon hadn’t found a reason to say no. He’d found a lot of reasons to say yes, mostly to do with the way Trey’s shirt clung to his chest after he’d done some laps around the pitch.

So here he was, running a little late and walking quickly to the gate where he said he’d meet Trey a good fifteen minutes ago. He could see him in the distance, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. When he turned to see Simon, a broad grin broke out over his face and he opened his arms wide.

“You showed up!” He shouted across the distance between them. Simon did a little half-jog to try and close the distance more quickly.

“Sorry!” Simon panted. “Couldn’t figure out my hair.”

He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, and found himself blushing as he walked the last couple steps to where Trey was standing. Trey looked him over, seemingly liking what he saw.

“Looks like you figured it out pretty well.”

Simon blushed even more. “Thanks.”

“Should we go?”

“Yeah, where are we off to, by the way?”

“I saw a little pub in town that I thought might be nice. It’s called the Turnkey’s Coat, have you heard of it?”

“I have! We actually went there for Penny’s 17th birthday, had an incident with a parakeet, but the pub owner was good about it.”

“Oh you _have_ to tell me all about that!”

So Simon told Trey all about the incident with the parakeet as they passed through the gates of the school and into a waiting cab. Usually, Simon wasn’t very comfortable talking. But something about Trey made Simon feel at ease, and he found himself opening up about things he normally wouldn’t with someone he barely knew. By the time they got to the pub, Simon already felt a little giddy, and he hadn’t even had a single drink yet. Five drinks in and he was good and gone, feeling warm and wonderful with Trey’s hand creeping up the inside of his thigh.

“-and then Penny told him to sod off, and he said he already had done because he was a farmer!”

Trey tipped back his head and laughed. Simon tried not to look at his throat when he did, but failed abysmally. He felt himself flush when Trey caught him staring, and there was a heated moment where they just looked at each other, Trey’s hand still stroking Simon’s thigh.

“Should we head out?” Trey asked, his voice a little rough.

Simon hesitated, then nodded. Trey flagged down the waitress for the cheque in record time and they settled up quickly with Simon only nominally protesting when Trey insisted on paying. The wash of cool air when they exited the pub gave Simon goosebumps, which turned into a shiver when Trey drew him back from the road, pulling him into an alley nearby.

“Shouldn’t we-?” Simon started, but then Trey was pushing him up against the wall of the alley and he suddenly understood his motivations.

“Oh! Hello!” Simon fluttered his hands, unsure where to put them before settling on Trey’s hips.

“Hello.” Trey murmured back, his hands creeping up into the back of Simon’s tangle of curls, messing up Baz’s work from earlier.

Simon could tell where this was going, and a certain appendage of his really liked that direction. But for some reason, his brain kept bringing up images of Baz, even while Trey placed slow kisses along his jawline, awakening a lazy heat inside him. Even then, all that he saw in his head was Baz glaring at his test paper in class two days ago, Baz half-asleep in the morning lying in the bed across from him, _Baz with his shirt open in the forest telling someone who looked a lot like him that he wanted him_.

With a start at the clarity of that image, Simon pushed Trey back.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Trey frowned, his hands still around Simon. Rather abruptly, Simon felt like his five drinks were catching up to him.

"I ‘ave to- uhm- I’m quite drunk.”

“Me too, it’s great, isn’t it?”

Trey grinned a wolfish grin and pressed himself against Simon again, until Simon pushed him further back.

“I’m actually- ah- I’m late.”

“You’re late?” Trey cocked his head, confused.

“Yeah.”

“Alright, well let’s get a taxi and head back to-“

“No!” Simon blurted out, adding to Trey’s confused expression. “Er- nope, I mean- all good. I’m just gonna-”

“Did I do something to upset you?”

Simon hated this whole conversation and wanted nothing more than to vanish and appear back in his room, where he was safe and warm and also there was _Baz_. “No! No, no, no. S’fine! Really! Great time, I’m just…I’m going…”

He trailed off, waving noncommittally into the distance, as if wherever he was going was just a few blocks over from the alley where they were having this awkward discussion. Simon thought he smelled something burning, and took a few steps back from Trey who responded by taking a few steps closer.

“We’re going to see each other again, though, right?”

“Sure! Yeah! Y’got it! Gotta go!”

And with that Simon realized the burning smell was coming from him, and the next time he blinked he had popped out of existence, appearing seconds later right in front of the door to his and Baz’s room. His stomach lurched and he crashed through it, feeling more than a little wobbly both from the drinks and also from the teleportation. But there was no sympathy waiting for him on the other side of the door. Instead there was Baz, wide awake and waiting for him, arms crossed over his chest and a murderous expression on his face.

  


### BAZ

“How was it?” Baz asked cooly.

“Oh, heyyyy Bazzy! Y’re still ‘wake!”

Baz narrowed his eyes at the drunken mess in front of him, trying to shut the door but only succeeding after the third try. Clearly the man could not hold his liquor. Baz’d had a couple drinks while angrily waiting for Snow’s return, but this was something else entirely.

“Difficult not to be awake with you making the equivalent noise of a thousand rhinos all at once.”

Snow laughed nervously and bumbled his way to his bed. As he sat down and struggled to remove his boots, Baz noticed the back of his hair had been messed up and felt a stab of jealousy. _Baz_ had done Snow’s hair up for him, and if that American monster truck of man had-

He stopped himself and tried to remain calm. 

“So? How was it?”

“Hmm?” Snow replied, assuming an expression of drunken innocence. Baz was going to die of frustration. 

“ _The date, Snow!_ ” Baz snarled. “How was the date!”

“Oh! Right. S’fine.”

“It was fine?”

“Yeah.” Snow shrugged, not meeting his eyes, and Baz thought he might throttle him. That was until Snow started stripping off his shirt and his pants right then and there. That was definitely distracting. Baz cleared his throat and tried to seem equally stern as before Simon had started taking his clothes off.

“Did you- at the end of the date, did you happen to-”

Simon giggled while tugging on his plaid pyjama pants. Baz wished he’d left them off. “Bazzy, are you asking if there was a g’night kiss?”

Baz crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to stare at the way the soft blonde trail of hairs below Simon’s belly button caught the moonlight. “Well, I think as your roommate I have a right to know if you’re going to throw yourself at another unbearable blonde who’ll try and get in our room whenever possible.”

“S’no kiss, also Aggie was never a bother, you know that. We only ever ‘ad sex in-”

“Spare me the details, Snow.”

“But isn’t that what you wanted.” Snow paused in his efforts to put on the soft, ratty t-shirt that he slept in, instead tossing it back towards his closet and loping over shirtless to where Baz was sat on his bed. “The details.”

Good lord. “I- I was just- why didn’t you kiss him? Were you not attracted to him?”

It was easier to talk like this in the dark, with Snow only half-lit by the moon through their open windows. Easier when he was still a little tipsy and Snow was flat-out drunk. Maybe Snow wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning. At the very least it gave them both plausible deniability.

Snow frowned and thought about Baz’s question for a minute, sitting on the far end of Baz’s bed and propping himself up with one arm while he did so. Baz tried not to breathe through his nose, lest he be overwhelmed by the campfire scent radiating off his bare skin.

“Dunno.”

Ridiculous. “You don’t know if you were attracted to him? Or you don’t know why you didn’t kiss him?”

Snow shrugged again. “Dunno.”

“You’re infuriating.”

Snow grinned. “You love it.”

 _He did love it_. He stared openly at Simon Snow, heart hurting with want. He looked so beautiful, the muscles tensing in his shoulder as he held himself up with one arm on the bed, his chest well defined. Baz could hardly believe that Simon Snow was sitting _shirtless_ on _his bed!_ They’d come so far in such a short time. Maybe they could go even farther.

“Simon, do you- have you ever-“

“Ever what?” Simon pressed, head tilting to one side.

“Kissed a boy?” Baz blurted out before he could lose the nerve.

“Not yet. Might do it soon.”

Baz swallowed. “You could- if you wanted to practice or try it out or something, you could-“

“Basilton!” Snow sat up, a hand flying to his chest in mock consternation. “Are you tryin t’get me to kiss you?”

Baz flushed red. “I was just _offering_ , you don’t have to be an utter twat about it. You could just-”

“Alright.”

The breathe left Baz’s lungs all at once. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Snow crawled up the bed slowly until he was inches from Baz’s face. Baz could feel his heart pounding out of his chest, and he was sure that his expression betrayed his complete and utter shock at this turn of events. “Alright.”

_Oh good gods!_

Snow just breathed there for a minute, his lips hovering inches from Baz’s, eyes flicking from Baz’s eyes to his lips. Baz wasn’t sure if he was breathing. He could feel the heat of Snow’s body caging him in, his legs bracketing Baz on all sides as he held himself up on all fours. The smell of burning was overwhelming, and Baz had to actively think about his fangs _not_ dropping because Snow was _delicious_. Their lips were centimetres from each other, and Baz slightly parted his lips as he felt the warm air of Snow’s breath puff against them. Snow hesitated once more, leaned forward and softly brushed his lips over Baz’s.

It was electric. Baz immediately chased Snow’s lips up to deepen the kiss, letting out a little gasp which seemed to make Snow hungry for more because he pushed forward again and then they were _really kissing_. Fuck! Baz felt every inch of his resistance crumble in one moment, and he pulled Snow down on top of him, hands running over the muscles of his bare back. Snow groaned and slid a hand behind the back of Baz’s head, tugging at his hair until Baz tipped his head back and whined. 

_Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_

He was hard, and he could feel the hard line of Simon’s _(Simon!)_ cock against his leg, and it was all he could do not to undress him right then and there because _Simon Snow was kissing him! Simon Snow was attracted to him! Simon Snow was-_

“Fuck, Baz!”

He tried to protest the departure of Simon’s mouth as the boy sat back up, Simon smirking down at him as he pulled Baz’s shirt off and then pushed him back down on the bed, which wow. This was better than anything he had imagined. Better than blowjobs from anonymous curly-haired men in bathrooms because this was Simon and this was _real_ and Baz really thought that if Simon didn’t slow down he was going to cum untouched. Then Snow was planting slow kisses on Baz’s stomach while Baz made embarrassingly enthusiastic noises, hands gripping Snow’s curls a little too hard, and he thought he might die of the pleasure of it. Of the fire in his belly that was surely going to consume him.

“Please! Fuck!” 

Simon kissed his way back up Baz’s chest, and _oh he had done this before. He had done this before, but not with Baz_. Not with Baz squirming underneath him, and not with Baz desperate to be touched, and not with Baz breathless as his wet tongue trailed over his pert nipples and-

“Simon!”

Simon lurched to a stop and sat up. Oh no. Baz scrambled to sit up as well. “What- why’d you-“

“S’good practice, thanks!”

And with that, Simon hurriedly hopped off Baz’s bed and walked straight into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly after himself. Baz heard the shower start to run as his heart rate and breathing slowed, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. _Simon Snow was attracted to him_. A little freaked out about it, sure, but most assuredly still attracted to him. Baz thought it might well be time for the teaser to become the teased.


	11. More Please

### SIMON

Oh god, he was gay. He was definitely, definitely gay. Some kind of gay, Simon wasn’t sure what variety, but also he was apparently into _Baz?!_ What the fuck was that?! Simon would have chalked it up to just being drunk, but the next morning after he’d woken up from a night of steadfastly ignoring Baz every time he whispered his name, shouted his name, and threw pillows at him, he _still_ felt a low pull in his chest at the sight of Baz’s swollen lips while he was getting ready in the morning.

And then Baz had seen him looking, and he’d pulled him in close, and they’d-

Well, they’d kissed again. And this time he’d been sober for it, so really there had been no excuse. Baz had looked so satisfied with himself, so _smug_ that Simon almost wanted to pull him back into bed so that he could wipe that look off his face. But what did it _mean?_

And if Simon was being completely honest, the whole thing scared him a little. The overwhelming urge to ignore, to bury, to move on without looking back was enormous. That’s how Simon had always dealt with things. Something shady happened at one of the Children’s Homes he stayed at? Forget it. Wake up screaming from a recurring nightmare of all your friends and the people you love getting murdered? Repress it. Really, desperately all-of-the-sudden want to have enthusiastic sex with your boy vampire roommate? Run away from it.

So he had. Just when it became too real, just when he realized an actual boy might make him cum, and that the actual boy wanted him so desperately, maybe even _loved_ him, and that actual boy was _Baz_. Well. It was a lot. It was a lot, and he left to take a shower.

He was glad that Baz hadn’t pushed the same way Trey had. Sure, Baz had been petulant and was more than a little annoyed when Simon immediately pretended to go to sleep after showering, as evidenced by his impromptu one-man pillow fight, but he hadn’t pushed. He waited for Simon to want again, and then he acted on that want. And oh did Simon _want_.

This hadn’t been a problem with Agatha. With Agatha, he’d had flashes of want, usually right before they’d had sex. But most of the time, he just found himself staring at her in awe-struck wonder. She was like a painting, an ethereal and untouchable living work of art, and also one that often seemed to be disappointed in him. Baz just seemed disappointed whenever they stopped kissing.

He’s been so flustered this morning that he’d accidentally put on Baz’s sweater again instead of his own, which this time Baz seemed _very_ pleased about, actually fixing the collar underneath before they headed out to breakfast. Baz was complaining about something to do with the Minotaur, their Greek professor, and how he’d graded on a curve for their last quiz when Baz _knew_ he was ‘well ahead of the damned curve’. Simon just nodded when appropriate and tried not to trip over his own feet due to the speed with which he’d look at Baz then look away.

It was strange, but Simon felt like he’d never really _looked_ at Baz before. He was actually quite attractive, in like a weird pale danger-boy kind of way. All sharp edges and elegance. Simon especially liked when his hair was down like it was, sleep tousled and in this case Simon-tousled, a little bit of a lilt to the tendrils as if they were trying to curl but weren’t terribly concerned about achieving this goal. Indifferent, just like Baz. And his lips were such a pale pink, Simon wondered if he bit one if the colour would-

“Are you even _listening_ to me?”

“What? Yes. What was that?”

Baz smirked to himself, sitting down close beside him at their table in the Dining Hall. Oh he was so _pleased_ , wasn’t he? Simon wished he could bring back his ability to make Baz feel wrong-footed, but as Baz continued chatting with one hand tracing patterns on Simon’s knee he didn’t think that was going to happen anytime soon. It was all he could do not to get hard at their table. Then Baz suddenly stopped talking and a stormy expression spread across his face. Simon looked around for the source of his displeasure.

Oh.

Trey approached their table, his expression unreadable, ignoring Baz entirely. “Hey, Simon!”

“H-hey, Trey!”

Baz’s hand tightened on his knee.

“You just kind of vanished yesterday! Literally, I think you teleported. I’ve never seen anyone do that before! Are you okay?”

Simon swallowed, Baz’s hold on his knee was not getting any looser. “Yup.”

“Well that’s good.” Trey leaned forward, propping himself up on the table with two hands without sitting down. His Henley shirt bunched up around the muscles in his shoulders. “We didn’t get a chance to make plans for the next date before you left.”

Simon glanced nervously at Baz, who looked like at any minute he was going to leap out of his seat and murder Trey. It was surprising to Simon that Trey hadn’t noticed, or if he had he was doing a very good job of ignoring it.

“Uhm, well- I’m not sure if-”

“It would really mean a lot to me, even if we could just hang out in the library for a bit. I feel- I’m really nervous about the first challenge, and I’m not positive that I can-”

Trey stopped and looked down at the table, clearly distraught. Simon felt terrible, here he’d been thinking this whole time that Trey just wanted to hook up with him when maybe all he needed was a friend.

“Alright, yeah, let’s go to the library.”

Baz whipped his head over to Simon, nostrils flaring, and for a minute Simon was worried that the amount of pressure he was exerting on his knee was going to result in broken bones.

“Great! I’ll grab you after class, yeah? See you around, Simon!”

A little smile at the corners of his mouth, Trey pushed off the table and walked away, hands in his pockets. Simon felt his heart rate pick up, pretending to be very interested in dissecting his cherry scone in order to avoid Baz’s glare.

“What was that?”

Baz’s voice was steely and flinty. Simon cleared his throat. “He seemed like he needed someone to-”

Baz stood up suddenly, causing the plates and cutlery to jangle a bit, before elegantly stepping over the bench and storming out of the room

“Baz, come on now!” Simon shouted after him, but it was too late. _Boys_ , Simon decided, were just as complicated if not more complicated than girls.

  


### BAZ

That was it. He was going to _murder_ Simon Snow. He was going to kiss him, and then fuck him, and then _claim_ him, and then _murder_ him. Not necessarily in that order.

How _could_ he?! He’d accepted a date right in front of him, after they’d- after he’d-

Baz was going to _murder_ him. He sniffed perilously, probably because of his allergies and definitely not because of anything else, his eyes blurring as he rounded the corner only to bump into none other than Niall, who sprang back with a dark look.

“Watch it!” Niall growled, brushing past Baz roughly.

If he were in a better mood, he might have let it go. But as it was, Baz wasn’t in a particularly good mood. One might even say that he was in a very bad mood. So instead he whirled around to shout after his former friend.

“Oy!”

Niall turned around warily. Good, Baz thought to himself. He _should_ be afraid.

Baz walked over to Niall, head held high. “We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we Niall?”

“Yes?” Niall answered questioningly.

“And through this time, I’ve seen _plenty_ that would qualify as blackmail-worthy, friendship-ending _shit_ , wouldn’t you say?”

Niall’s eyes widened. “Well-!”

“Perhaps like the time you stole that rakshasa’s pendant? Or the time you enchanted, what was it now, ah yes your bedside dresser to have an interesting deformity somewhat resembling common female genitalia, I’m sure for purely scientific purposes.”

“Hang on!”

Baz ignored Niall, raising his voice. “Or the time you trapped that fourth year in the mirror floor for daring to question your abilities on the football pitch, do you remember that? I can still recall the way his screams echoed in that chamber. They say it took him weeks to recover, and he still twitches every time he passes a mirror.”

“Baz-”

“So imagine my surprise,” Baz roared. “That on finding out I like to fuck _men_ , you abandon our friendship in favour of _what?_ Your pride?! Your _morality?!_ You don’t _have_ any of either of those! I’ve seen you take a shit in an open field!”

“Hey!”

“I’ve seen you half-naked, flat out drunk and spelling both your shoes together! I’ve seen you try to _eat a woman’s ear!_ AND NOW JUST BECAUSE I’M GAY YOU’RE THROUGH?

“IT’S BECAUSE IT’S SIMON, YOU FUCKING NUMPTY!”

Baz took a step back from Niall, who was breathing heavily, shocked at his former friend’s outburst. A couple of students scurried past them awkwardly, clearly not interested in getting involved.

“It’s been _year_ after _year_ of Simon this, Simon that! How will we defeat him, Niall? How will we stop him? Have you seen him? Get Dev to follow him! You follow him! You lay a trap for him! We need to do this for the families, Niall! Do you want the Mage to win, Niall? Do you know what he’s capable of, Niall?”

Baz blinked. “He’s-”

“You said you were going to try to MURDER HIM!”

“What?”

“Before the selection! We asked why you were paying him so much attention, and you _lied to our faces!_ You said you were going to murder him!”

“I-” Baz flushed, suddenly aware of what his quick turnaround on Simon must look like to his best mates. “I didn’t-”

Niall pointed a finger in his face. “I know that mess of curls! I was _watching_ the Selection! The fairy that led you off into the woods looked like Simon, didn’t it? That’s why you so desperately wanted to _fuck._ ”

Baz didn’t say anything. Niall shook his head and took a step back, disappointed.

“I hope it’s worth it, Baz. When our families are impoverished and imprisoned, at best. When at worst, they’re dead in their homes, murdered by _that boy_. I hope the sex will have been good enough to ease your guilty conscience. Enjoy your _boytoy_. Some of us have a war to think about.”

And with that, Niall turned up his nose at Baz and walked away, leaving Baz more than a little hurt and somehow even _more_ annoyed with Simon Snow. Because it would be one thing for him to give up everything to have Simon all to himself. It was another to have to share. And Baz had never been particularly good at sharing.

  


### SIMON

“-and then he just left! And he didn’t even come back when I shouted after him!”

Penny was looking at Simon the way many of his teachers had looked at him in the past. An indescribable mix of bewilderment, resignation, and frustration all mashed together in one. She let out a sigh, and gazed out the library window.

“I honestly don’t know why I even bother, sometimes.” She murmured to herself.

“Can you believe him?!”

Penny’s head whipped around to glare at her best friend. “Yes, Simon! Yes, I can _believe_ Baz! You agreed to a date with another man right in front of him after you’d just made out with him the night before!”

“No but it _wasn’t_ a date!” Simon corrected patiently. “I’m helping Trey out with Magickal Sevens stuff.”

“It’s a date, Simon! It is so obviously a date! Trey is just trying to have sex with you!”

Simon’s mouth fell open. “He is _not_ Penny! Not everything is about _sex_ all the time!”

“A lot of it is!” Penny corrected, crossing her arms over her chest.

“A lot of it isn’t!” Simon hissed back.

“You wouldn’t know the difference between a date and a friendly get together if it came up and bit you in the arse!”

Simon decided he needed to switch tactics. “Who’s the gay one here, Penny? Me! So that makes me the expert!”

“As of what, two minutes ago?”

“Still two minutes more than you!”

“You do realize that the first challenge is _literally tomorrow_ and all we’ve done is spent the last hour and a half talking about _boys!_ ”

Simon rolled his eyes. “Whatever, it’s not going to be that hard. I’ll just figure it out.”

“Figure _what_ out?” Penny threw up her hands in consternation, earning some annoyed looks from other students in the library at the volume of her voice. She took it down a notch the next time she spoke. “We don’t even know what’s _happening!_ ”

“I might be able to help with that.”

It was Trey, entering their little enclave of books with a swagger and a smile. Simon couldn’t help but blush a little, and Penny just rolled her eyes before getting to her feet and leaning in towards Simon.

“Be good.” She whispered, and then flounced out of the library, giving Trey a look that was less than approving on her way out.

“So…” Simon asked, clearing his throat a little and fidgeting with the pile of books in front of him. “Where should we begin?”


	12. The Crucible

### BAZ

Baz _wasn’t_ staying awake waiting for Simon. He _wasn’t!_ He happened to be awake on the same night that Simon had casually betrayed him with an uncultured American beefcake, but that was only because he was so intelligent that the sheer number of thoughts running through his mind had rendered him incapable of sleep. Something _Simon Snow_ would never understand because the enormity of his idiocy made Jupiter look like a rubber bouncing ball.

So when Simon Snow sat on the edge of his bed hours later and whispered, “Hey, are you awake?” he of course offered the correct response.

“No!”

“Baz…” Simon whispered, placing his hand on Baz’s shoulder. Baz obligingly rolled over onto his back to look up at Simon, a mistake if there ever was one because he looked just as beautiful as ever. He gathered up his sheets in a fist and looked away, like those curls could burn his eyes.

“You smell like him.”

Like hotdogs. Like sun-caked dirt on a summer day. Baz _hated_ it. And then Simon put a hand on his chest, rubbing back and forth. Baz closed his eyes.

“Well,” Snow murmured. “We could fix that, couldn’t we?”

Baz’s eyes flashed open and he felt more emotions in that one moment than he thought he’d ever felt in his entire life. Hurt, aroused, jealous, furious, confused, all tangled together in an impossible and irredeemable mess. But Simon’s hand was slowly running down his chest, shoving down the blankets, and Baz could feel his breathing pick up despite himself. He threw an arm over his face as Simon tugged back the blankets completely and climbed on top of him.

“I hate you.”

“Do you?” Simon asked, kissing Baz just under his chin and awakening urges that Baz wished weren’t so close to the surface. _Desperate, that’s what you are_.

“Yes, I hate you.”

Simon slowly pushed away Baz’s arm so that he could look him in the eye. “I don’t think that’s true.”

Baz flushed, looking down to their feet. “You’re wearing your _shoes_ in my _bed!_ ”

Simon just grinned and rucked up the shirt Baz was wearing to bed. “How ‘bout if you start taking your clothes off, I will too?”

Baz narrowed his eyes. Oh was _this_ the way they were playing it? Simon was so brave in the dark, but then in the light of day Baz could barely touch him without him stammering and tripping over his feet. _Coward_. Baz would show him what it meant to be tortured with want.

He sat up, forcing Simon to sit back on his haunches and slowly tugged off his shirt. Simon watched him strip with hungry eyes and then eagerly moved to do the same, but Baz stopped Simon with a hand on his chest. This wasn’t going to be about _him_.

Simon looked confused at first, but then aroused when Baz continued to slowly remove his clothes. First his pyjama bottoms, and then his pants pulled down with a thumb at the waist until he was naked in front of Simon. Baz didn’t even stop to think about the cool night air on his skin, about the gorgeous boy’s widening blue eyes. He pushed Simon down so that he was sitting on the bed and climbed into his lap, Simon still fully clothed.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“I don’t- I-” Simon stammered.

Simon’s slightly calloused hands were running lightly over Baz’s hips and back and stomach almost of their own accord. Simon didn’t seem to know where to look, and was blushing more than Baz thought he’d ever seen him blush before in his life. _Good_.

“I’m going to touch myself, but you’re not going to touch yourself. Understood?”

“I- what?”

Baz ground his ass down into Simon’s crotch and Simon grunted, his hands fluttering down to Baz’s ass. Baz felt himself get impossibly harder, his cock dragging against the soft fabric of _his_ Armani jumper that Simon had _stolen_.

“If you don’t like it,” Baz panted. “You can leave.”

_“Baz!”_ Simon said, and this time it was like a plea, and that was all Baz needed to start slowly stroking himself. He could feel the line of Simon’s hard cock when he moved his ass in slow circles over Simon’s lap, and Simon’s grip on his hips and ass tightened.

“Fuck!”

Hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed, Simon tilted his chin forward to capture Baz’s lips, kissing him deeply and with a kind of heat that made Baz squirm and speed up his strokes, the feel of Simon wrapping his arms around his naked body almost too much. Baz could feel the soft drag of the cashmere sweater against his bare skin, the rough fabric of Snow’s khakis under his thighs. Baz felt hot, and slutty, and fucking _filthy_.

Simon groaned into his mouth, and Baz knew he was going to cum like this. With Simon gripping his hips and his ass too tightly, all muscle and desperate kisses. He knew he was making sounds but he couldn’t stop them, and then Simon was tackling him to the bed, kissing him hungrily as he moaned into his mouth underneath him, his hand moving faster and faster over his cock until he-

Baz came with a shout, and Simon kept touching his overly-sensitive body all over, sending shocks up his spine. It was quite possibly the best orgasm he’d ever had, made even better when he slid his hand between himself and Simon and traced the line of Simon’s cock over his pants. The _sound_ Simon made then was _sinful_ , and it took all of Baz’s strength to do what he did next.

He bit Simon’s ear gently before whispering to him, gripping his hips. 

“I want you to remember this the next time you even _think_ about betraying me with _that boy!_ ”

And then he deftly slid out from under a shell-shocked Simon and walked naked with slightly wobbly legs to the bathroom, shutting the door after him. Because _fuck_ Simon Snow.  


  


### SIMON

Things were not going according to plan. To be fair, Simon had not had much of a plan to begin with, it sort of entailed _kiss Baz_ and then trailed off after that, but it had still been a _plan_. This was chaos.

To begin with, Baz had _stopped kissing him_. Simon had not thought that was possible, he always seemed so excited when they were kissing. Although he supposed this time they’d done a little more than kiss. Simon flushed at the thought of it, glancing around the Dining Hall as if his memories were somehow etched into his forehead. That had been unexpected.

_Unexpectedly hot_.

If Simon was a more verbose man, he would have told Baz that what they’d done might have been the sexiest thing that had ever happened to him. And that despite the fact that he’d had to finish himself off once Baz had made his abrupt exit, he’d still had an absolutely phenomenal orgasm. Simon thought Baz might’ve heard him cumming through the bathroom door because when he emerged later in his spare pyjamas he looked just as flushed as when he’d left.

Of course, he ignored Simon completely, just as Simon had ignored him after showering the night before, to the point where when Simon had made it clear he wasn’t getting out of Baz’s bed until they talked, Baz just went over and _slept in Simon’s bed_. Simon found that to be almost unbearably attractive, and the temptation to join him had been immense. But he resisted. Baz was upset with him, and Simon could wait a while until he felt ready to talk. Hopefully it wasn’t terribly long, though, because Simon really wanted to do whatever that was again.

_And again. And again, and again, and again._

Simon tried to bring his mind back to his breakfast. Baz had still been sleeping (or ‘sleeping’, Simon couldn’t tell) when Simon had left the room that morning. He was quite early, his stomach a jangle of nerves over the first challenge in the Magickal Sevens. Simon didn’t particularly care about winning, but he also decidedly did not want to be the first eliminated. It was as Penny said, he probably should have prepared more.

He sighed, taking a hefty bite out of some French toast. At least he’d only be upsetting the Mage if he lost. Simon could live with that. Oh, and maybe some of the people in the school who were weirdly invested in everything he did. And possibly Baz? He wasn’t sure whether or not Baz wanted him to win. Most of Baz’s energy now seemed focused on eliciting increasingly horny responses from Simon whenever possible.

Simon was still thinking about Baz hours later when he wandered into the Champions tent a little less than forty-five minutes before the first challenge. A crowd had begun to gather on the grounds, people finding their seats in the stands, and as anticipated in the centre of the ring was the Crucible, sending out a strange aura into the mass of bodies. Simon had felt a shiver as he passed it, and compulsively checked for Baz amongst those chatting and laughing in the stands. He hadn’t seen him, and so continued on his way.

Trey was in the tent, but he looked almost as nervous as Simon, pacing back and forth a little. So they just nodded at each other and sat down on opposite sides of the large tent. An older man who looked a lot like Trey was speaking to him intently while Trey frowned and nodded. His father, Simon assumed. Simon was suddenly struck by something else to feel intensely nervous about, hoping that Trey would not introduce him to his father. Having never had one himself, Simon felt completely out of his depths around fathers, and felt like he’d only skated by with Agatha’s because he seemed to like the idea of him and Agatha together. His actual personality hadn’t seemed to factor into things too much.

Hoping to discourage any interaction, Simon struck up a conversation with Obi and Marisol, who were comparing notes on audience members. They both seemed to agree that there were more people in the audience now then there had been at the Selection Ceremony, and after about twenty minutes of this discussion, they were joined by the buzz of the bumblefires and the garbled, echoing voice of the announcer in the distance. Obi and Marisol both paused to awkwardly smile at the bumblefires before trying to resume their conversation as if they weren’t now being filmed. Simon, feeling a bit annoyed with the bumblefires considering everything that they’d done to Baz, swatted at them a little until they breathed little tiny clouds of fire out of their tiny bumbling mouths, singing his hair. Things were about to get ugly when the Mage strode into the tent, banishing the bumblefires with **Make way for the King**.

“Champions!” The Mage boomed, his arms opened wide. “Your time has come! For those of you who had solved the riddle prior to this moment, well done. For those of you who hadn’t, I should hope the answer is now obvious.”

A few chuckles made their way through the group as the seven champions closed ranks in front of the Mage. He smiled at them benevolently.

“There is little time now before you will begin your struggle anew. When we meet again, we will have lost one of you from our ranks. But never fear, your name will be remembered for the strength and fortitude you have shown during this, the 496th Magickal Sevens! Remember to be gracious, remember to play fair, but most of all-”

Simon swallowed when the Mage held his eyes for just a moment. “-remember to _win_.”

The Mage blinked twice and donned a steely smile. “See you on the other side!”

And with that, the chaos making a ruckus outside seemed to find its way into the tent. As the Mage swept back out onto the grounds, two volunteers opened the tent flaps before him, while another started commanding the champions to form a line in a pre-determined order, Simon bringing up the rear. Trey was first, and met Simon’s eyes quickly before being led out in front of the crowd. There was a roar, and Trey looked momentarily stunned before remembering to smile and wave. The announcer was listing off information about Trey and reminding the audience of his performance during the Selection Ceremony, but Simon was too nervous now to pay much attention.

_Remember to win_.

Simon thought again about Trey’s father, who had clapped his son on the shoulder before he made his way out of the tent and was now standing in a reserved area of the stands for close friends and family of the champions. He’d never had a father, but in a way, the Mage had sort of raised Simon. But with every year he got older, Simon found himself questioning a little what kind of a figure the Mage was striking as a father. Because with every incident with the Humdrum that passed, with every squabble with the Families that led to spilt blood, with every danger lurking around the corners of Watford bruising and battering him, the Mage still didn’t seem especially concerned about what happened to Simon. So long as he won in the end. Winning seemed to be all that mattered.

Before he knew it, Simon was being ushered onto the field, the screams of the crowd momentarily deafening. He blinked in the sunlight and smiled tightly, waving as he’d seen the others do. Simon wasn’t sure, but the shouting seemed to go on a little longer for him, probably because he was the last one out of the tent.

“CHAMPIONS!” Boomed the announcer, who Simon thought he recognized from one of the interviews he’d given to the Magickal Record. “AT THE READY!”

A hush fell over the crowd as the seven champions took their positions around the ring in the centre of the stands. Simon’s heart was beating fast and quickly traveling up his throat. He held his wand tightly in his fist, but really wished he was holding his sword instead. Everyone, Penny and Trey and every other person he’d talked to, seemed certain that this would be a magickal challenge. Which is also why Simon didn’t like his odds.

“DRAW FORTH!”

Simon raised his wand and watched the other champions do the same with their magickal objects. “BEGIN!”

There was a moment where nothing happened. About half the champions seemed genuinely confused, while Ingunn stood with her eyes closed and Obi looked into the stands expectantly. For some reason, Taiyo was blushing horribly, and seemed to be saying a silent prayer to the heavens which Simon didn’t understand the point of _at all_ until-

_Oh no_.

Slowly at first, like she was resisting the force of the Crucible, Quinn walked towards Taiyo with an expression that could only be described as disgust. At the same time, Simon noticed Obi opening his arms to a beautiful dark-skinned Black woman who returned his smile as well as his embrace. To his left, he noticed Marisol looking relieved to see her nervous friend awkwardly walking onto the pitch (who overall looked much less relieved about this recent turn of events). Realizing what was about to occur, Simon whipped his head toward the stands, where he could sense a pull building inside his rib cage tugging him forwards.

And there he was. Baz. Face ashen white, and gripping onto the edge of the bench like his life depended on it. As soon as he saw Simon looking at him, he looked away, doing the worst job of feigning a casual air of disaffection that Simon thought he’d ever done. His entire body was bent towards Simon, like he was being yanked out of the stands by an external force that wasn’t particularly concerned about how this would look once the dust settled.

Simon spared a moment to look at Trey, who also seemed to realize what was going on and seemed quite upset about it. He was still alone, staring at Ingunn who was forehead to forehead with another woman who had hair so blonde it looked white. And when he met Simon’s eyes, Simon thought he saw a flash of fury, but then there was a loud crack from the stands. Simon looked back to Baz, now standing and holding two large pieces of the wooden bench in his hands. There was some laughter in the audience, and Baz flushed as he tried to mask his emotions, stepping out from his row and down the steps of the stands with whatever dignity he could muster. Simon watched his approach with dread, trying not to think too much about how Baz was refusing to meet his eyes. The intense pull didn’t stop until they were literally side by side, arms touching. Baz still wasn’t looking at him.

“Baz-”

“Don’t.”

“AND IT SEEMS LIKE ONE CONTESTANT REMAINS UNPAIRED, THIS IS QUITE UNUSUAL. FOR THOSE OF YOU LESS VERSED IN THE HISTORY OF THE CRUCIBLE, THAT MEANS THAT NO ONE IN A HUNDRED MILE RADIUS IS A SUITABLE MATCH FOR YOUNG MASTER TREY HERE. A BIT OF A ROUGH SHAKE, SORRY ABOUT THAT CHAP!”

That seemed to elicit a small smile from Baz, which quickly turned to a frown when seven small bubbles emerged from the Crucible and started floating towards the champions, slowly expanding as they did so.

“What’s happening?” Baz asked, still without looking at Simon.

Simon shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Baz’s eyes widened, and he seemed to forget that he was ignoring Simon in his surprise, instead whirling around to face him. “You don’t _know?!_ ”

“No idea.” Simon reiterated.

“What do you _mean_ you don’t know?! Haven’t you been preparing for this _at all?!_ ”

Simon flushed. “I’ve been busy!”

“ _Busy?!_ ” Baz snarled derisively. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Calling what?”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m going to fucking die because of you, you bleeding idiot!”

“We’re not going to die because of a _bubble!_ ” Simon insisted, waving a hand at the bubble which in that moment began to turn black and inky, continuing to grow in size and stumbling to the ground as it did so.

The other contestants seemed to be casting spells left and right, and to Simon’s left there was a loud pop, the crowd roaring its approval as Obi and the woman beside him smiled and waved, covered in clear bubble juice but none the worse for wear. Taiyo and Quinn had (similar to himself and Baz) also only succeeded in arguing, but Ingunn and her girlfriend had somehow turned the bubble into a rainbow kaleidoscope of colours. Whether or not this was the end goal remained to be seen. Meanwhile, Simon noticed that all of the grass below their bubble was withering and turning brown.

“ _Simon!_ ” Baz hissed, gesticulating at the scorched earth. Simon thought he could smell it smoking from where they were stood at the edge of the ring.

“Yes! Okay! I see it!”

“Well are you going to _do_ something about it?”

“Are _you?_ ” On second thought, maybe the campfire smell was coming from him and not the earth under the bubble. This was bad.

“I’m sorry, was _I_ selected Champion of Europe? Did I perhaps fall on my _fucking head_ and _forget that happening?!_ Shall I go to the doctor for my _moderate to severe concussion?!_ ”

“Just- can you- hang on…” Simon shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on shoving down the flood of magic inside him trying desperately to get out. _Please not now!_

“HANG ON?!” Baz shouted, breaking any semblance of concentration Simon had managed to muster.

“Would you just-!”

In frustration, Simon grabbed Baz by the arm, and in that moment a surge of magic welled up inside him and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop it. Everything was blurring and shimmering, and Simon saw sparks travel up Baz’s arm where he was touching him. Baz had his wand gripped in his hand, and without either of them making a move his arm raised of its own accord, Simon still gripping Baz’s forearm, and it was like a firecracker went off. A jet of fiery light burst out of the end of Baz’s wand towards the ominous and now-giant black bubble rolling towards them and quickly gathering speed. There were two pops from somewhere in the ring, and then their bubble rose to the sky and expanded to a hundred times its size, blotting out the sun. Gasps rose from the crowd, and then there was an earth-shattering crack. The bubble had burst, and screams erupted as inky black liquid sizzled and rained from the sky. 

Baz stiffened, and with Simon’s hand still on him, pointed his wand upwards and let the power surge through him.

“ **MAKE IT RAIN!** ”

He shouted, voice reverberating as the sizzling black drops suddenly transformed into bank notes, fluttering harmlessly to the ground. The crowd’s screams quickly turned to shrieks of delight, and a new type of chaos ensued as people tried to scoop up as much money as possible. In his shock, Simon felt himself settle, his magic pulling back. He turned to Baz in awe, still gripping his arm. Baz looked almost as shell-shocked as he did.

“I’ve always wanted to try that one.” He whispered, staring at Simon like he was a wonder. Simon stared back.

Out of the corner of his eye, Simon noticed two things. One, Marisol and her friend trapped in a clear bubble, unharmed but looking a little embarrassed. And two, Trey standing beside a whispy figure with gold eyes, drenched in bubble juice. He blinked and the figure vanished, leaving Trey alone and angry on the pitch. But he didn’t notice Simon looking, and moments later Baz and Simon were swept up in a flurry of fans and friends all excited to congratulate them on their victory.  



	13. To the Victor, the Spoils

_Tyrannus Basilton Pitch  
71 Dagnall Rise  
The Mummer’s House, Tower  
Watford School of Magick  
Fenwick-upon-Avon_

_Basilton,_

_I am sure that you can guess at the enormity of my displeasure on hearing of your performance at the Selection Ceremony. May I remind you that despite your numerous deficiencies and unacceptable lifestyle choices, you are and remain a Pitch. And while you may choose to besmirch that name, I will not allow you to do so under my house without repercussions. Rest assured that if I hear again of any behaviour in keeping with your latest stunt, you will find your Christmas more than lacking. I trust that you are in good health and of sound mind, and therefore will not disappoint me again._

_Your Father,_

_Malcolm Grimm-Pitch_  
  
  


### BAZ

“We should do it again.”

“What?” Simon’s voice sounded strangled from the short distance between them, and Baz turned towards his voice, laying on his side in bed. _His bed that still smelled like Simon from the night before_. Focus!

Baz repeated himself. “We should do it again, the magic. The thing we did in the challenge today.”

“Oh! Right.”

Baz couldn’t see Simon in the dark of the moonless night, but he could have sworn he was blushing. Interesting. He propped himself up on his elbow with a grin and pressed Simon further.

“What did you think I meant?”

“That. That’s what I thought you meant.”

“Hmm…” Seemed unlikely, but before Baz could press the issue, Simon was barreling on with his thoughts on the matter.

“Baz, I’m- I’m not sure if we should- I don’t want to hurt you by-”

But Baz had already crawled out of his bed and into Simon’s, scooting under his covers. If he had to wait for Simon to finish a coherent thought, this would take _years_.

“Hey!” Simon protested.

“Move over, you great lug! It’s freezing!”

“Jesus, your hands are like ice, what are you- ah!”

Baz laid half on top of Simon and shoved his hands under his shirt, which wasn’t strictly necessary but Baz was cold and Simon was warm and also those _muscles_. He wanted to trace Simon’s abs with his tongue. _Focus!_

“Now do it!”

“Do what?”

So irritating. “Push the magic out! Like you did today!”

“Baz, I have no idea how I did that! I’ve never done that before!”

“Well figure it out!”

“It’s not that _simple!_ I can’t just- I’m not a tap, you can’t just turn me on and off!”

“Can’t I?” Baz waggled his eyebrows and Simon blushed.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“Do it!” Baz commanded, feeling Simon’s chest rise and fall with a frustrated breath underneath him.

“Baz, would you just-”

“Do it!”

A flicker of anger lit something up inside Simon and it was like a flash of his magic escaped, Baz illuminated by the glow for just a moment before it faded out.

“Wow! Again! Do it again! Was it because you’re angry? Or do you think it’s just strong emotions? How did it feel when it was happening?”

Simon frowned. “Dunno, I can’t- can we-”

Simon threw both arms over his face, and Baz realized he might be pushing a little too hard. He stopped for a moment, propping himself up so that he could watch Simon’s face and waited for his breathing to even out, gently pulling his hand out from under his shirt and stroking his chest, hand dragging back and forth slowly over the cotton. When he was sure that the moment was right, he kissed Simon on the lips slowly, softy, gently, never pushing his arms away from his face. And then Simon heaved a great shuddering sigh, a couple tears escaping.

“What’s _wrong_ with me?!” Simon spoke in a choked, small voice.

“Nothing’s wrong with you.” Baz whispered, reaching up his hand to brush away the tears on Simon’s cheeks with his thumb. “You’re perfect.”

Simon lowered his arms and just stared at Baz. “I don’t feel perfect. I feel broken.”

“I think we all feel a little like that sometimes.” Baz murmured, voice low in the dark.

“Well, I shoot power beams out of my body that obliterate everything in their path.”

Baz rolled his eyes. “And I’m a gay vampire wizard. We all have our crosses and/or stakes to bear.”

“You know, I think that’s the first time you’ve admitted that to me.”

There was silence as Baz wondered if maybe it had been a mistake to speak aloud what he was sure they both knew. Simon had literally followed him into the catacombs once, witnessed the aftermath of his feeding. But in the moment, they hadn’t really acknowledged or had a conversation about what that meant. About the _weight_ of it.

Baz felt like Simon knew, though. And not just that he was a vampire, although he most assuredly did. He also felt like Simon knew that he did not seek out violence, that he did not have a propensity towards murder. At least, not very often and usually not for good reason. Especially in the last couple of months, Baz was sure there’d been a shift in their relationship, easing year-old tensions and smoothing over age-old conflicts. Still, he waited a little nervously for Simon to continue, unsure about what to say himself.

“I don’t think either of those things make you broken, Baz. Being gay or a vampire, I mean. I actually think you’re-”

Simon stopped and struggled with his words, and Baz felt his impatience and curiosity get the better of him. “What do you think I am?”

“Whole. I think you’re a whole, brilliant person.”

And for some reason that was almost too real for Baz, too much in the moment, especially from a boy he loved so much it hurt. So he shoved at Simon’s shoulder and played it off. “Don’t talk about my holes, you filthy boy.”

Simon’s eyes widened. “I didn’t-! I swear I wasn’t-!”

“Sweet Merlin, would you _please_ invest some time in the study of sarcasm, if only for the sake of my sanity.”

“Oh. Right.”

There was a small, comfortable silence, both boys thinking their respective thoughts. Baz cuddled up against Simon, indulging himself a little. After all, how many times had he imagined this moment? The two of them tangled together, Simon with an arm wrapped lazily around his waist, almost as if he hadn’t registered he was doing it. Fulfilling a lifelong dream, Baz reached out and gently ran his fingers through the side of Simon’s curls, pretending to do it absentmindedly and not in a way that was so yearning that his chest swelled on contact.

“So what was the clue this time? For the next challenge?” Baz continued, hoping the slight tremor in his voice wasn’t noticeable. Simon’s eyes were half-lidded from the feel of Baz running his hands through his hair, and Baz wondered if he would fall asleep like this.

“It was shorter this time, I remembered to write it down. It was - wait - _At the edge of your maps, I call, you tremble. Lest horror awake you, be ready, assemble_.”

“Hmm..” Baz thought for a minute, his breathing now in time with Simon’s. The boy’s eyes were now entirely closed, and Baz took this opportunity to play with his curls while he spoke. “Probably something at night, then. And a fight with a magickal beast. _Here there be monsters_.”

Simon grunted. “Manageable.”

“Simon…” Baz hesitated. Simon’s eyes opened and he turned to him in the darkness, their faces inches apart and Baz’s hand still buried in his curls, legs tangled together.

“Yes?”

“Do you…”

Simon waited, those blue eyes blinking at him slowly. But Baz couldn’t bring himself to ask. It was one thing to be able to pretend that Simon Snow liked him, it was another to be forced to face the reality of their situation. Which was that Simon only wanted him in the dark. And only when no one else could see. A hot flash of shame lit Baz up from the inside, and Simon must have been able to tell that something was wrong because he frowned.

“We can try it again, if it’s important to you. I just don’t like- it’s one thing for me to have to deal with this awful mountain of magic barreling out of me, I don’t want you to have to live with it as well.”

Oh, right, the magic. Baz had actually forgotten why he’d climbed into Simon’s bed in the first place. All that mattered was that he was here. All that mattered was that he wouldn’t have to leave. So he feigned interest, withdrawing his hand from Simon’s curls and sitting up beside him, placing one hand on his bare arm.

“Try it again, but just focus on drawing the magic up and out of your core.”

Simon propped himself up with a sigh. “I’m not like you, Baz. I’m not good at magic, I’m not…”

“Stop. You can do it, Simon. I believe you can do it.”

Simon cocked his head to the side in surprise and sat up, facing Baz. To an intruder, it would have looked like they were getting ready to meditate. They both sat cross-legged, Simon with his eyes closed and hands on his upper thighs. Baz mirrored his position, but kept his own eyes opened and placed his hands on Simon’s knees, resisting the urge to run them over the strong muscles of his thighs. He was unsure if the magic required him to touch Simon’s bare skin, but this was as good a way as any to find out, and besides Simon’s pyjamas were thin enough that Baz thought it shouldn’t make too much of a difference.

Nothing happened for a moment, and then, this time slower than the last, Baz felt a creeping electric sensation. It was like fire and lightening, like ecstasy. It was a thrill that ran all through his body, awakening each and every one of his cells, making him feel so _powerful_ , so wired that if he tried he was sure he could bring down this whole building and rebuild it brick by brick. Hungrily, he ran his hands down Simon’s legs, wanting to get closer to the source. Simon’s eyes flared open, thick blue with gold sparks, a warm and impossible glow emanating from him.

_So beautiful. So powerful_.

“Simon.” Baz said, his throat thick. He felt drunk, head full and warm just at the sight of him. God, he was beautiful. “ **Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be**.”

He could tell that Simon didn’t know the spell, but it didn’t seem to matter, because with magick still sparking off him like a firecracker Simon pulled him back down to his bed. As his fingers traced Baz’s biceps, Baz felt tingling vibrations that set him shivering. They kissed gently, carefully, like Simon was holding himself and his magick back. Baz wished he wouldn’t, and shoved his hands greedily up the back of Simon’s shirt. They lay tangled together, kissing and quietly passing magic back and forth, their bed a shower of sparks and illuminated cotton.

Baz knew they should probably talk about this, about everything that was happening between them. But he didn’t want to ruin the moment. First the deliciously sexy moment of flickering magick from Simon’s hands that set him groaning while he tried to tempt a very controlled Simon into fucking him senseless. Then the absolutely precious moment as they slowed and Simon’s eyes dimmed and grew heavy. The blessed moment of kissing his eyes shut, and of holding him in his arms as the boy fell asleep. It was both blessed and cursed, and it hurt like a pit was opening up in his chest at the same time as it was being filled. 

God, he loved Simon so much. What did _Trey_ have that he didn’t? Why _couldn’t_ he have Simon all to himself? Didn’t he deserve it? Didn’t they belong together?

“Did it work?” Simon murmured in his arms, mostly asleep. “Could you do magick?”

“I’m not sure.” Baz lied with a whisper. “Go to sleep.”

And so Simon did while Baz stayed awake, a new guilt eating him up inside at the spell he had cast on the love of his life.  
  


### SIMON

When Simon woke up, he was both surprised and not surprised to find Baz still in his bed. Surprised because he had mostly expected Baz to leave, and not surprised because he had fallen asleep on top of the boy and Simon wasn’t sure exactly how much upper-body strength Baz had. Baz was still knocked out, soft puffs of his breath at Simon’s temple, his arms still under Simon’s shirt.

Part of Simon wanted to wake Baz up so that they could start up where they’d left off, but this time without magick threatening to stream out of him at a hundred miles a minute. It had been incredibly hard (pun intended) last night to resist the temptation to flip Baz over, strip him down, and fuck him into the mattress. If anything could be gathered from the way Baz was pawing at him last night, that had also been what was on his mind. But Simon wasn’t about to find out what letting loose his magick while orgasming would look like, what an embarrassing way to likely cause a city-wide power outage.

He limited himself to brushing his lips against Baz’s forehead before climbing out of bed and stretching. There was a lot to be done today, and still more to be done before the second challenge in a few week’s time. Simon got ready for his classes on auto-pilot, thinking things over. They were down to six champions, Marisol had been eliminated, much to the chagrin of her friend who seemed to have been at fault. And Simon suspected he’d be fine for the next challenge, as it did sound like it was a fighting challenge. The next one after that wouldn’t be till after Christmas break, giving Simon a much-needed rest prior to returning to his rigorous schedule of being a Magickal Sevens Champion, a student, and fighting the Humdrum.

Although, come to think of it, he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the Humdrum in months. Usually there was some kind of an attack at least once a semester. There hadn’t been anything of the sort since the banshees at the start of the school year. During a planting session later in the day midway through their ‘Applications of Magickal Flora’ class, Simon brought this up to Penny, who also seemed taken aback.

“Wait, when was the banshee attack again?”

“September.”

“And it’s-”

“November 23rd.”

“Hmmm.” Penny looked lost in thought, carefully separating the jumping beans from their pods and tying them to strings attached to a stake in the earth. “Do you think it knows about the Magickal Sevens?”

Simon frowned. “I don’t really know if it _knows_ things, Penny. Or thinks things. Or is a thing.”

“You’re right.” Penny nodded. “It’s more of an absence of a thing than the thing itself.”

That had not been what Simon was saying, nor did he understand what Penny meant, but he had learned by now to just nod in these scenarios and wait for Penny to elaborate. It didn’t take long for her to continue.

“You know, we’ve always assumed that the Humdrum is fully in control. That it is the ultimate enemy. But don’t you think it’s strange that it’s never launched a full-out attack on Watford?”

“But that’s because of all the magickal warding. Watford is one of the most secure and powerful places on the planet.”

“Simon, the Humdrum _sucks the magick right out of the world_. Places that are _less_ magickal should be more secure. Watford must look like a buffet to the Humdrum.”

“What are you saying?”

Penny turned to Simon, her gardening-glove covered hands on her hips. “I’m _saying_ that the absence of a thing is in itself a thing. That the absence of control is chaos. That to have nothing, you must know what it means to have something.”

They appeared to have crossed the threshold of Simon’s ability to pretend he understood what was happening. It was time to point that out to Penny. “I don’t understand.”

Penny sighed. “I’m saying what if someone else is controlling the Humdrum?”

Simon almost took a step back in his surprise. “Who? Who on earth would be powerful enough to do that? And _why_ on earth would they do it in the first place?”

“I don’t know.” Penny turned back to the jumping beans, watching them flip about on the earth, lost in thought. “But I think I’m done running, Simon. We need to figure out who’s doing this to us. And we need to figure it out soon.”


	14. Here There Be Monsters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the extended absence! Ran into some life kerfuffles, but they're mostly sorted now. Back to the thrumming anxiety that keeps me writing as a means to sanity's end!

### SIMON

The weeks passed in a blur. Mornings training with the Mage until he collapsed panting on the grounds, classes one after another, evenings spent in the library with Penny researching either the Humdrum or the assortment of monsters which might be present in the next challenge of the Magickal Sevens, and then the nights. Nights spent either in dreamless sleep, or spent kissing a petulant Baz, who seemed to be of the habit now of ignoring Simon for 3-4 days then giving up and snogging him passionately after dark then going right back to ignoring him. Simon hadn’t even brought it up with Penny because even though it had been at least a couple months now of this new phase of their relationship, Simon still didn’t know what it was or what it meant.

Were they dating? They hadn’t been on any dates, so that didn’t seem likely. Was he supposed to ask Baz out on a date? Simon wasn’t sure when he was supposed to fit that in his unforgiving schedule, and they usually had several meals a day together anyway, Baz pressed up against his side and offering snide remarks as a sort of contribution to his conversations with Penny, Agatha, and whoever else happened to be sitting with them.

Part of Simon knew that he was ignoring looking deeper into his relationship with Baz because it would mean facing a series of uncomfortable realities. First, his sexuality, which fine he was a bit nervous about but overall was fairly manageable. And second, that he was sort of dating Baz. A vampire from one of the Old Families who wanted nothing more than to rid the world of the Mage and restore Watford to an institution that would no doubt send him packing.

_Politics_.

Simon had no real interest in any of that grown-up nonsense. Why should _he_ have to care about who was in charge of what? He’d probably be dead in five years anyway. Less if the Humdrum had its way with him.

And so in place of sorting any of this out (it all seemed rather unnecessarily complicated and gave Simon a bit of a headache to think about), Simon did what he did best and just put it all aside in favour of the present moment. And the present moment was quite good! Friends, food, and someone to kiss at night. If there was more to life, Simon hadn’t figured it out yet and had no plans to do so.

He was still doing his best to think of nothing in particular on the evening of the second challenge. Baz was in one of his ignoring-Simon phases, most likely because Trey had joined them for dinner last night and they’d been meeting in the library on-and-off, something that seemed to send Baz into even more heightened emotional states than usual. So Simon found himself alone in their room, getting ready. He nervously summoned his sword to his side and gave it a few good swings. Better.

The setup for the challenge today was further out from Watford than the first had been. Simon had heard people pouring out from the residences for at least an hour now, chatting and laughing on their way to the Hills Beyond. Penny had scouted out the location for him, the stands were set up on a hillside in front of a wide plane. In the distance, Simon could already see the lights of the stands, along with some fireworks. An announcer’s voice carried across the grounds of Watford. He should really head out, or he’d be late again.

Walking out, he felt his nerves build up in force, even as he waved to some familiar faces he passed as well as some unfamiliar ones that seemed to recognize him nonetheless. They hadn’t really been able to guess the creature that Simon would be fighting, although Penny seemed convinced that it would be a manticorp. Simon certainly hoped not, if that was the case he’d hardly be able to reach up to its knee, let alone kill it. A bone-chilling roar cut through the night, and Simon tried to place the sound. Whatever it was he was fighting, it was going to be big.

The champions tent was a little before the stands, buried in a copse of trees. Simon opened the tent flap and found himself awash in nervous chatter, the rest of the champions grouped together in a cluster. Trey looked up and smiled at him, while a few of the others gave him a nod.

“Did you hear that roar earlier?” Trey asked.

Simon grimaced. “Er- yes. Yes I did.”

Taiyo looked white as a sheet, swaying as he stood, while Obi just looked determined. He clapped a hand on Taiyo’s shoulder, which nearly knocked him to the ground.

“We’ll be fine, friends. There is little chance of us being slaughtered in front of an audience today. Any attack will be stopped before the injuries become too grievous.”

“Oh god.” Taiyo muttered, rushing outside, the sound of retching filling the awkward silence. Quinn gestured in his direction before backing out of the tent.

“I’ll go check on him.”

Ingunn seemed, as per usual, unaffected by her surroundings. She stood in the cluster of champions and gave Simon a slight nod, but otherwise seemed lost to the world. Simon wished he could remain as unaffected as she did, especially once the bumblefires joined them in the tent. Quinn was the one this time to angrily swat at them as they tried to get close-up shots of Taiyo’s queasy reaction to this particular challenge, but Simon still felt himself frowning at their approach.

“Champions!” The Mage swept into the room, and Simon was jerked out of his reverie. “Look at you all! Standing brave and true in the face of horrendous monstrosities!”

Taiyo’s face blanched impossibly more at ‘horrendous monstrosities’, and Quinn steadied him on his feet, dragging him closer to the Mage. The Mage looked bemused, but carried on with his speech as if nothing was amiss, the gold cape he wore glinting in the light of the torches placed at even intervals in the lavish tent.

“The remaining six of you will now face an adversary few will face in their entire lifetime. Well, that applies to _most_ of you, I should say.”

The Mage spared Simon a wink, and he grinned in return. Simon had been killing monsters since he was 12. This should be a walk in the park.

“Remember, should you find the challenge too, should we say, _challenging_ you may signal the bumblefires and help will be sent your way post-haste. However, another reminder that this will result in your immediate disqualification from the competition, so choose wisely. Your place in history may rest upon that choice. Best of luck to you all, and I hope to see you again at the next challenge!”

With a final nod, the Mage turned on his heel and strode out of the tent. A volunteer began barking orders, shepherding the six contestants into a somewhat orderly line, with Taiyo bringing up the rear and swaying like a tall blade of grass on a blustery day. Simon, who was second to last, held out an arm behind him to steady the boy and Quinn shot him a grateful look from her place at the front of the line. Simon nodded back just as a terrible sound arose from ahead of them. Quinn set her shoulders as the flaps of the tent opened before her and she strode forward.

“AND HERE IS OUR FIRST CONTESTANT OF THE NIGHT, THE YOUNG MISS QUINN AVERY! YOU MAY RECALL THAT IT WAS HER AND YOUNG MASTER TAIYO THAT SO NEARLY WERE ELIMINATED IN THE LAST ROUND DUE TO WHAT APPEARED TO BE A LOVER’S QUARREL.”

Quinn gritted her teeth at that comment and glared into the stands, marching around the corner and out of sight into the field set up for battle. As he had found himself to be Taiyo’s newly appointed caretaker, Simon half-listened to the introductions of the other contestants in front of him and half offered whatever comfort he could to the now barely upright boy. But when it came his turn to be announced, someone else had to take over. 

An equally nauseous looking volunteer took Simon’s place and retched in concert with Taiyo, a sort of near-vomiting call and response. Clapping Taiyo twice on the shoulder before he left, Simon turned and made his way through the stands and out onto the field.

“HERE HE IS! THE CHOSEN ONE HIMSELF, LOOKING MAJESTIC AND READY TO FACE WHATEVER MAY COME FORWARD NEXT! THIS CHALLENGE WAS TAILOR-MADE FOR SIMON SNOW, AS YOU MAY RECALL HE BEGAN GRAPPLING WITH GRIFFINS AND HOG-TYING HYDRAS AT THE TENDER AGE OF TWELVE!”

Simon tuned out the rest, smiling and waving as appropriate. The contestants were standing quite far apart in a line with their back facing the rows of onlookers. Some 25 metres away, torches burned and cast flickering shadows into the darkness, but nothing discernible strode forward. So it was to be a surprise until the end. Simon called his sword and did a few warm-ups, ignoring the roar of the crowd in response.

To Simon’s left, Obi was doing the same but with a fierce looking bow and arrow. On his right, Ingunn was floating in midair in a meditative pose, a small wooden flute clutched in her hand. Further to the right, Trey was holding a broadsword in a way that made Simon momentarily concerned that he didn’t know how to use it before he became entirely distracted by Quinn, who was to his far left. In place of warming up, Quinn was instead facing the entry to the field in the middle of the audience. Her knives were still strapped to her legs, and when Taiyo stumbled onto the field she looked as though she wanted to run over to him and carry him back off the field and to the castle.

Even as Taiyo took his place 20 metres to the left of Quinn, she still had not unsheathed her knives, instead shouting something at Taiyo. Taiyo pulled out his wand with trembling hands, and only then did Quinn draw two of her knives.

“CHAMPIONS! AT THE READY!”

Simon felt the blood pumping through his veins, the thrill of the moment catching up with him and providing him with that battle-clarity that he’d come to expect from similar circumstances. Thundering footsteps mixed with scuttling sounds were approaching from the darkness.

“THREE! TWO! ONE!”

There was a great clanging bell and Simon rushed forward. Finally, _finally_ , a challenge where he could just run really fast and hit something very hard. His muscles felt free, the balance of his sword strong in his hand. Shadows formed ahead into a line of creatures, most holding back save for Simon’s creature, which also rushed to meet him. He ignored the rest and picked up his pace, magickal energy humming through his body until his creature took form ahead of him and he almost stopped short.

In front of him was the single largest centipede he had ever seen. Tens of clicking red legs shuffled closer at an alarming speed, pincers rearing back with a hissing sound at Simon’s approach. There was nothing for it, Simon gritted his teeth and carried on with his advance, the roar of the crowd replaced with a pounding in his ears. His own heartbeat, he realized, just as he brought his sword down across the creature’s fierce mandibles. There was a horrid screeching noise and it whipped around its body, attempting to sweep Simon’s legs out from under him. He jumped just in time, stumbling only a little before regaining his balance.

“COME ON! IS THAT IT THEN?” Simon yelled, steadying himself as the centipede shrieked again and pressed forward.

It was quick. Simon dodged and turned, bringing down his sword in a two-handed arc and deftly decapitating the twitching beast. A noxious liquid burst out, coating Simon and somewhat dampening his victory, but the crowd cheered nonetheless and Simon grinned and waved a tired wave.

Looking around, it seemed like he was the first to finish off his creature, although Obi was not far behind. Simon saw him draw his bow, still at a distance, and fire a final arrow at rather hairy looking giant spider’s eye. The spider collapsed with a shudder, at least 12 other arrows buried in its massive form, and Obi gave a bow to the audience.

Trey did not seem to be faring so well, and was mostly retreating from a vicious looking Mongolian death worm. He was hacking at it with the broadsword in a way that almost made Simon want to shout some helpful tips, but he seemed competent enough to carry himself through so Simon held his tongue and resumed looking over the field of remaining combatants. 

Ingunn was also still grappling with her beast, and appeared to be taking a different approach from most. She was not even technically fighting, instead playing her flute for an entranced ball of conjoined cobras, their black tongues flicking out to taste the cool night air. Simon frowned, he hadn’t even considered _not_ killing the creature. Was that allowed? But before he could give it another thought, a blood-curdling scream drew Simon’s attention.

It was Taiyo, clutching one of his arms, blood pouring out as he stumbled to the ground. He had lost all colour, and seemed to be mouthing wordlessly while staring at a shadow that approached. In a split second, Simon realized that he was trying to call for help, but no sound was coming out. _He wasn’t going to be able to alert the bumblefires in time_.

Without another thought, Simon took off running, yelling at Taiyo to get up. He ran past the dead spider, hairy legs curled up under its massive abdomen. Past Quinn who was shouting for Taiyo as well, pinned underneath a Wendigo and looking like she really ought to be focusing all her energy on her own fight.

“HEY!” Simon yelled as he approached, the shadow drawing back a little from Taiyo. “HEY, YOU!”

Abandoning the quivering lump that was Taiyo, the shadow rose into the air, assuming its full height. It took Simon a moment to realize what it was, and silently thanked Penny for forcing him to memorize so many creatures, pointing to pictures in the library until he pushed the books away and begged for sleep. _Naga Wight_. A shadow creature that fed on darkness and blood. Why on _earth_ would they set this creature on one of the champions? It was far too dangerous for these people to fight.

These people, but not Simon.

Simon drew back his sword, and let energy crackle through him. 

“Get back!” He yelled to Taiyo, who scrabbled backwards still clutching his arm to his chest.

_Hurt it_. Simon thought. _I want to hurt it_. Simon had no guarantee this would work, Naga Wights were immaterial and thus usually at an advantage in a sword fight, but hoping that his magic would sort that out for him Simon slashed at the creature’s ragged robes and was grateful to see a few ethereal scraps of fabric wave in the wind and fall to the grass where they vanished.

If it was possible for a horrific undead creature to look surprised, this one managed a semblance of it, but only for a second before letting loose a horrible screech and rushing at Simon. Simon parried the attack, swinging his sword at the belly of the beast. A black, thick ichor gushed out, coating Simon’s sword. The wound made an abhorrent sucking sound and the Naga Wight let out another ghastly shriek, placing both skeletal hands over the sword and pulling, the sharp metal edges clinking and scraping against the bones of its hands. It was pulling the sword further _into_ the wound.

Surprised, Simon let go and stumbled backwards, breath falling short as he watched the Naga Wight continue to scream and push the sword further inside itself, almost like it was fascinated by its own pain. The black ichor oozed down its robes and spread across the grass, moving like water in a heavy desert rain, puddles quickly reaching Simon’s shoes. The shoes sizzled, and Simon backed up some more, a scream caught in his throat.

“HELP! SOMEONE HELP!!”

It wasn’t Simon who was yelling. Numbly, Simon realized that he knew the voice. Quinn must have killed her Wendigo then. But as the ichor continued to creep forward until it bubbled at his feet, Simon came to the sudden and inescapable realization that he was actually terribly alone and always had been. It was foolish of him to think he had friends. That people loved him. Everything was darkness, and no one could help him. No one would help him, or even wanted to help him. He was sinking into the inky black of a lake of death, and death itself was reaching out for him.

The Naga Wight approached, and Simon felt like his legs were burning where the ichor touched him, but it wasn’t important. It would all be over soon. The dark was where he belonged. And then a voice broke through the mire of his thoughts, booming across the grounds as if magically amplified.

“SIMON! MOVE, YOU NITWIT!!”

“Baz?” Simon asked the air. Was that voice coming from the announcer’s booth? The announcer’s booth - wait, but he was- where was he?

Simon looked up just in time to see the Naga Wight swing his own sword at him. Yelping, Simon ducked and fell backward, skin burning on contact with the ichor. He scrabbled further back, the Naga Wight continuing to swing wildly while Simon dodged and rolled in the burning ooze.

“USE MAGIC! YOU’RE A FUCKING WIZARD YOU IMBECILE- NO I WILL MOST CERTAINLY _NOT_ GIVE YOU BACK THIS MICROPHONE GET _OFF_ -!”

If Simon’s skin hadn’t been burning off, he would have rolled his eyes. As it was, he rolled his body instead and focused on tapping into the crackling ball of light inside him. Flames spread and moved on the ichor like lit oil on water, the Naga Wight screeching as it was wreathed in fire. Two sets of hands pulled Simon back just as the flames began rising and rising, and he felt his mind settling as he was dragged completely out of the reach of the pool of ichor. Where there had been a black pool there was now a small lake of fire with a writhing Naga Wight in the centre, screaming as its body dissipated into smoke and vanished, leaving nothing but the circle of flames.

“Holy fuck, are you okay?! Simon?”

Simon blinked and nodded at Quinn and Taiyo, another pair of hands he didn’t recognize appearing a moment later with a towel and water, gently wiping away ichor still smeared over his body.

“We need to get him out of these clothes and to the first aid tent, now!”

The first aid tent? That sounded far. Simon was feeling very tired. Maybe he would just lie down for a minute before they left for the tent. He could feel his head drooping and tried his best to fight it.

“SIMON?! Simon?! Sweet Merlin and Morgana what were you _thinking?!_ Why must you always rush in like that, can’t you just _leave things be_ for _once?!_ Is he alright? What are you doing?!”

“Baz?” Simon’s brain allowed him one last vision of a frantic and paler-than-usual Baz gently patting his rather red looking body and torn clothes before he passed out. Someone in the distance didn’t seem happy about that, but Simon figured he’d sort it out later. For now, it was terribly important that he sleep.


End file.
